Destiny: The Beginning
by Flowerscanbloomorwilt
Summary: Set at end of PoA. When Harry runs into the new student at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle – better known as Lord Voldemort, nothing could have prepared him for the tempest that follows. A tale woven around two wizards whose fates are irrevocably entwined with each other. Drama, danger and destiny unfolds at Hogwarts. How many choices can Harry make before the path laid out for him blurs?
1. Chapter 1 - Where it all began

_**Hello everyone! I'm back! All right, first, I sincerely apologize for the long wait. But what happened was that I had been feeling uncertain about this story, and then a few reviews made me take a decision...to rewrite the story. I've been making changes during the past weeks, and here's the version that met my standards. I hope this edited version makes you happier! Also, I hope it clears up some things that were a bit unclear in the original.**_

 _ **I also changed the title and the summary as you probably noticed. I really hope you like these altered chapters!**_

 _ **Please leave reviews after you read! I'd so like to know your thoughts on the changes...**_

* * *

The sun shone down on the expanse of ancient cobblestones that made up the courtyard of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The equally ancient fountain in the centre acted almost like a giant sundial, its short shadow indicating that it was close to noon.

This courtyard was a favorite spot of many students, however, right now, it was empty save for a single figure strolling in the shade of the corners of the yard with an armful of books.

It was a boy. But this was no ordinary boy.

Midnight black hair sat atop his head in a messy nest. Creamy, seemingly unmarred, skin, and, like all teenagers at his point, he was still growing into his body. Black wire rimmed spectacles were perched on his nose. But it was the eyes behind the glasses that caught one's attention.

Green eyes. Extremely extraordinary green eyes. They were the exact color of the well known and well feared Killing Curse, the very same one that had taken the lives of his parents as well as countless others.

Behind the strands of inky black hair that fell on his forehead, above his right eyebrow, was something far more extraordinary and sinister. It was one of the biggest things that set him apart from his peers.

A lightning bolt shaped scar, the result of a rebounded Killing Curse thirteen years ago was how most people knew that this boy was the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry Potter smiled to himself as he leisurely made his way towards the Gryffindor tower. Life was, for once, looking good. Sirius, his godfather, was free. On the run, but free. He had also been sent a brand new Firebolt – and if Ron's ecstasy was anything to go by, it was one of the leading brooms of the wizarding world.

He could hardly believe that this was happening to him. It was only a few months ago that he'd walked out on his Muggle guardians, discovered that the bloodthirsty mass murderer who had escaped Azkaban was his godfather, and learned the circumstances of his parents' death.

But everything had twisted out of control when a new factor had been introduced to the equation, a factor that had changed everything. His godfather had been proved innocent, his DADA professor Lupin had not only turned out to be an acquaintance of his parents, but a werewolf who had been best friends with James and Lily Potter and Sirius Black, and another classmate – Peter Pettigrew.

Pettigrew, a timid hero–worshipping Gryffindor, had turned over to the dark side. Everybody thought that Sirius, after betraying Lily and James to Voldemort, had killed Peter along with a dozen Muggles in a street on the night that Harry's parents died. Harry had been stunned when the truth had finally been revealed that fateful night in the Shrieking Shack by Sirius, and his DADA professor Remus Lupin. Pettigrew had been appointed the Potters' Secret Keeper, and he had led Voldemort straight to them. When Sirius had realized that their so called friend had betrayed them, he had faced Peter in a fury. Peter had blown up the street, killing the Muggles, transformed into his Animagus – a rat – and cut off a finger to fake his own death before escaping. Sirius was left, branded as a traitor, blamed for the Muggles' and the Potters' deaths, and flung into Azkaban.

Harry admired him though. Sirius had survived twelve years in the gloomy prison, a prison guarded by Dementors, and escaped with his sanity intact, though he _had_ been slightly out of it when Harry first saw him. Not that he blamed Sirius. Sharing living space with dementors could do that to a person.

Now, even though Peter had escaped, Sirius was free of that hell.

And that thought brought back a smile to Harry's face.

It wasn't the only reason he was smiling. Hagrid's beloved hippogriff, Buckbeak, had been saved from execution. And Remus Lupin had been persuaded by Dumbledore to remain for the rest of the year as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Best of all, he was off to spend a free period with Ron. The thought made him pick up his pace, and he'd just turned the corner when his day – and life – went to complete and utter hell.

 _._

He slammed hard into someone coming from the opposite side. His books flew out of his hands, and he fell to the floor with the force of the collision. "Ow…sorry…." He murmured, adjusting his glasses. He looked up….. into a pair of ice blue eyes.

Harry gasped in shock, reeling back though he was still sprawled on the floor. He closed his eyes, and reopened them, only to see the flashing orbs again. This time he observed the neat and glossy dark hair, the pale skin, the straight nose, the proud cheekbones, the confident mouth twisted in a smirk.

.

 _"_ _Tom Riddle?"_

 _._

The world froze.

.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ , in the flesh!

He looked pretty much the same as he had in the Chamber of Secrets.

Tom smiled – a cold calculating tugging of lips – and gracefully crouched in front of Harry. "Allow me to be of assistance, Harry Potter." He began gathering everything Harry had dropped. When he was done, he turned to Harry and offered a hand.

Feeling dizzy, Harry took the offered hand. Pulling him up smoothly, Tom smirked again. "It was a _pleasure_ to meet you _again_ , _Harry_." Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Looking after the disappearing back of the young Dark Lord, Harry faintly wondered why he'd been feeling so happy earlier.

Also, if he'd just dreamed up the whole thing.

* * *

.

Severus Snape, as Potions Master of Hogwarts, a questionable individual of the war, and the most feared teacher of the school, had lived through so many things, one would be amazed to find him still breathing and alive.

Now, as he stood in the shadows of the courtyard, watching as a tall, stunningly handsome Slytherin boy helped the Boy Who Lived off the floor, he felt like he was getting himself into something that was beyond his comprehension. He shook himself out of his reverie to see the taller of the two boys stride away, leaving Potter gaping after him.

Snape sighed and glided over to the shocked Potter and drawled, "Close your mouth, Potter, you're catching flies."

Potter turned stunned green eyes onto him. "Professor? Professor…. _That_ was…that was…– "

"The Headmaster wants to see you, Potter. Come with me, and _stop gawking_ – it's most unbecoming."

"But Professor!"

"Not _here_ , you idiotic boy!" Snape hissed. Thankfully, that seemed to be enough to make Potter gather his wits and follow him silently.

 _Merlin help me out of this mess…_

* * *

.

The walk to Professor Dumbledore's office was silent, but Harry's mind was spinning. _Tom Riddle, the teenaged version of Lord Voldemort, was at Hogwarts! It_ was _him, wasn't it? Didn't Dumbledore know? What was going on? Why hadn't he killed him right then and there? Perhaps…perhaps it was somebody who looked like Riddle? But – but then why all this fuss? And how did he know him? Wait, it was Tom Riddle all right! He wouldn't mistake him…_

Voldemort! _No! Voldemort was back!_

Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm his hammering heart. I'm overreacting, he told himself. That wasn't Tom Riddle – _I AM LORD VOLDEMORT floating before him in fiery letters_ – no! It wasn't Tom Riddle. He was dreaming. He was just conjuring up stuff out of his nightmares to keep him terrified now that there wasn't any mass murderer after him to do it.

Right.

 _Don't be an idiot._ As if Voldemort would help him off the floor or be nice. Voldemort wasn't back. Voldemort wasn't back. Voldemort wasn't back. Voldemort was somewhere far far away, like the Bahamas. Or the moon.

Then why was his _scar burning_?

 _No! Relax Harry!_ There's an explanation, there must be one. It was an amazingly polite normal Slytherin he had bumped into. And Snape was taking him to Dumbledore because…because…maybe he wanted Harry to be expelled…maybe he was still raging over being attacked at the Shrieking Shack…

…

Snape and Harry reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the stairs leading to Dumbledore's office. "Chocolate frog," Snape bit out, probably annoyed with the humiliating password. At least it wasn't as embarrassing as some other passwords that the headmaster was capable of coming up with. Oh well. It was probably humiliating for Snape because he was a Feared Professor. Not that Harry had laughed or anything when the potions master had stated the name of a candy! Besides…oh, he was rambling. Mental rambling.

Harry shook himself out of it, not wanting to admit even to himself that he was anxious, so anxious that his fingers kept clenching in his robes for a want of something to do.

The stairs moved into view, and Snape gestured him to go first.

The Headmaster was seated behind his desk, poring over a bunch of letters. His eyes twinkled when he caught sight of Harry and Snape.

"Ah, Harry, and Severus, do come in. It's been some time. Lemon drop?"

They both shook their heads. Dumbledore shrugged and popped one into his mouth. "Tea?"

Snape visibly bristled. "No, Headmaster, that will not be necessary. Potter just ran into somebody that finally managed to shock him into silence." The sneer he wore plainly claimed that he thought this was a particularly difficult task.

Dumbledore straightened, and removed his half–moon spectacles. "I must admit, I was not looking forward to this particular conversation."

Harry blinked. "Wait… you mean…so that was… Was that actually Tom Riddle? The real–"

"Lord Voldemort? Yes, Harry that was him, although, he has changed a good deal, as you no doubt saw."

Harry gaped at the Headmaster, his head spinning. He sank into the closest chair, feeling as if he'd stepped into some kind of alternate universe. "Sir, are you actually saying that Voldemort transformed himself into a teenager, and is now attending Hogwarts? As Tom Riddle?" He reflected on how bizarre that sounded.

 _"_ _Yes! You're absolutely correct! That's exactly what has happened, my dear boy! Five points to Gryffindor!" A second of silence, then –_

 _"_ _Kidding! Ha! Took you in, didn't I? That was a very well staged joke! Ha ha! Thought you needed something to cheer you up, my boy! Severus here is a marvelous actor, don't you think? Bet he and the Slytherin boy I hired scared the snitch–embroidered boxers off you! Oh, I should certainly give him that pay raise he's been nagging me about ever since he took the post…!"_

That was what Harry expected would happen, which his imagination worked on instantly. If the world was normal.

What actually happened…

"It's not that simple, Harry, but, simply put, that is the case, yes." Dumbledore nodded.

The calm way in which the Headmaster said it was what set Harry off.

His face turned white with fury. " _Simply put?_ You're letting a _murderer_ roam the halls of the school? What are you _thinking_? This is _Voldemort_ we're talking about! Professor, this could be a ploy – or _anything_ , and you just let him in?!" He was shaking, and he could vaguely make out the objects lining the shelves of the office shaking with him.

He didn't give a damn.

Hogwarts was his home! And now, the man who sought to kill him since he was just an infant…was here… He was so upset that he himself couldn't make sense of the thoughts rushing around in his head.

A sudden thought struck him and he whipped out his wand. _Was Dumbledore bewitched? Was it even the real Dumbledore?_

"Potter, that's enough," Snape broke in. He had evidently understood where his train of thoughts was taking him. "I understand that this must be too much for your tiny brain to comprehend, but _put your wand away_! I'm sure that the Headmaster will explain this…unfortunate happening once you _calm down_!"

"Calm down?! How can you expect me to _calm down_ when the man who _murdered_ my parents is walking around freely?!" Harry hissed heatedly.

Snape's face looked even more pinched. He turned to the Headmaster. "Headmaster, perhaps Potter needs to know the truth. We will have nothing but chaos in our hands if he is left unchecked."

Dumbledore stroked his great white beard. "I'm not convinced, Severus. After all, Harry already has enough to worry about, what with the fiasco with Sirius Black only just over…"

"Black has escaped, as you very well know!" Snape growled.

"Ah yes, unfortunate that," Dumbledore responded, his eyes twinkling down at Harry.

Harry couldn't even grin back, the problem at hand had shaken him so much. He took a deep breath and attempted to look as composed as possible. "Professor Dumbledore, what's going on?"

"Sit down, please, Severus." The grim potions master sat down as Dumbledore faced them with a serious look on his face. "Now, before I say anything, Harry, I want you to swear to me that you will not repeat what I am about to say to anyone. Not even to your friends."

Harry paused, then nodded. He didn't want to put his friends in danger anyway by dragging them into a matter involving _Voldemort_.

Seemingly satisfied, Dumbledore popped another lemon drop into his mouth. "Lord Voldemort has returned, and is very much alive, as you probably saw. How this came about, though, I cannot tell you. The point is, he has regained his body, his younger body, and most of his sanity. He is stronger than he was when you met him in your first year."

"When he was possessing Quirrel?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Correct. However, his younger body doesn't mean that his magic has depleted. He is strong, no doubt of that, and we must be careful."

Harry remembered the icy smile that had radiated confidence. _You can say that again._ "But sir, what is he doing in Hogwarts?" He was desperate for answers – a testament to his rising anxiety.

Dumbledore exchanged glances with Snape before turning to Harry again. "That is the most important – and curious – part. Earlier this term, Tom paid me a visit with a rather surprising proposal. He offered to keep his Death Eaters from attacking Hogwarts if I allowed him to attend Hogwarts as Tom Riddle."

"What? Why would he want that?" Harry asked, thinking fast. "Unless, he's trying to get closer to you … to try to harm you, sir?"

Snape entered the conversation smoothly. "The Headmaster has already pondered that possibility, Potter. Rest assured that we have taken the necessary safety precautions, however, the same cannot be said for your life."

Harry turned to Snape sharply, "Me? What do you mean?"

"He means, Lord Voldemort might be looking for an opportunity to harm _you_ … by staying in Hogwarts, he is getting countless opportunities to hurt you, my boy. Nevertheless…" he trailed off delicately, "Both Professor Snape and I will be looking out for you, so you need not be scared."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Of course," he said sarcastically, "nothing to worry about. It's only Voldemort after all."

Next to him, Snape near–jerked. Dumbledore looked pained. "Harry, my boy, I do realize that Tom has an ulterior motive to come to Hogwarts; this is merely a small step, a tiny piece of the bigger picture. But–"

"But you have no idea what the bigger picture is, so you're going along with Voldemort's plan, to keep an eye on him when he acts, so to speak." Harry finished.

Dumbledore nodded again. "Quite right, well thought out, Harry."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "There's more, isn't there?" He outwardly kept himself collected, revealing nothing of the storm brewing within his mind.

"That won't be necessary for you to know, Harry. Meanwhile, I want you to be very careful around him, but at the same time, I'd like you to…." He hesitated again most uncharacteristically, his eyes darting to Severus and back, "…get to know him."

Harry stared back in horror. "…Get to know him…? As in… spend time with him?" Of course, he had no doubt that Voldemort – Tom Riddle – would approach him, but to actively seek him out…?

"Precisely." Dumbledore looked slightly guilty. "I know this must be a lot to ask of you, considering who he is, Harry, but it is vital that we keep up with Tom's steps, his plans. Befriend him, if you can, and see if you can pick up any hint of what he's up to."

"Spy on him, you mean?"

Snape sighed long-sufferingly. "Mr. Potter, surely you aren't as mentally deficient as all that?"

Harry looked at Snape and then Dumbledore piercingly. "With all due respect, professor, I don't believe I can do that without there being some form of uproar, seeing that the House rivalry is still quite prominent. Besides," here he paused to take a deep breath to cover up the tiny break in his voice, "Have you forgotten it was he who murdered my parents in cold blood? Who has tried to kill me as well? I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I cannot with a level head acquiesce to your request."

He was aware of Snape's scrutinizing stare boring holes into the side of his face, but resolutely kept his eyes forward. Thank the Founders he had a better grip on his self–control now.

"Harry…"

.

"I must admit, that was certainly not the reaction I was expecting from you, Harry." Harry and Snape shot to their feet and whipped around to see the one who had drawled out the condescending words. Tom Riddle was leaning against the doorway. A smirk curled the corner of his lips, and his eyes shone with barely concealed sinister glee.

Harry got his first good look at the newly returned Dark Lord.

The first thing he noticed, or rather felt, was the _power_. It coiled and uncoiled, like a venomous serpent, alluring, mysterious, enticing. It beckoned people closer, and then, it would _strike_ , flaring out even more in all its terrible, _dark glory_.

Voldemort's magic called out to him, like a parent welcoming a child home in the sunset, a friend greeting a friend after years of separation, a – dare he say it – lover long lost embracing him after years of solitude…

.

 _Everything, everyone, time itself – froze._

.

The world fell away, leaving only Voldemort and Harry suspended in this moment in time…

Ice blue locked with emerald green.

.

A rush of light and dark magic swept around them both, as Harry's own magic expanded to meet Voldemort's welcoming one. Both auras flared up like an inferno, combining, pulling each other into themselves, binding binding _binding_ …

They were immersed in each other, their senses snatching at anything and everything of the other…

Dark crimson bled into the Dark Lord's previously ice blue irises. His gaze was heavy, just like the air around them which sparked with the magical density.

For the first time in his life, Harry's scar thrummed pleasantly.

The fate of the wizarding world was decided, and that lightning bolt shaped scar bore its own weight on the ultimate decision made by its bearer.

Harry was not aware of the physical realm at all, he was so intensely focused on his enemy.

But was he? Was Lord Voldemort the enemy anymore?

Harry caught himself there. Was that even a doubt, let alone a question?

But his traitorous mind refused to remain unruffled by sticking to his previously drawn conclusions.

 _His magic feels different…_ his mind whispered. _Less oppressive. Less damning._

He _feels different._

 _He…has_ changed.

Try as he might, Harry could not deny it. Voldemort was different, so far from the disfigured face at the back of a deceptively meek professor's head, which had haunted his dreams for months afterwards.

He seemed _fuller_.

Of course, having a body of his own might help that impression too.

But then there was the other undeniable matter of Voldemort's magic.

It no longer felt threatening. Harry remembered himself as a tiny eleven year old, valiantly standing tall under the withering gaze of the dark wizard, under his terrifying aura, though he was quaking on the inside, wanting to – or fearing that he might – fall to his knees.

This aura bore no similarity to that. To Harry, it had almost, for a split second, felt familiar and comforting. He could not deny this…that as he met the Dark Lord's crimson gaze, he briefly felt as though they were _kin_ …

Their gazes remained unbroken. Harry's own eyes glittered as he unflinchingly looked back. He felt…breathless and _free_ , and something inside him longed to glide over to the dark wizard, to _revel_ in his darkness, to curl deep within his ebony and ruby colours, to –

Voldemort drew some of his magic back into him, and Harry immediately snapped himself out of it, managing not to follow the allure. He too drew his own aura back in, resolutely not reacting to the unnerving gleam in Voldemort's eyes…

Voldemort. _Lord Voldemort_. Harry considered it deeply. Voldemort. _Riddle_. Yes, Tom Riddle. It suited him much better than Voldemort.

Harry took a deep breath, allowing his demeanor to cool. It wouldn't do to let his temper get out of control. This had to be tackled with Slytherin talents, not Gryffindor forwardness.

Let it play out then.

The two wizards broke their incessant eye contact. With it broke up the magical atmosphere surrounding them.

Riddle… Riddle inclined his head very slightly towards Harry. His irises faded back into the ice blue shade. " _Harry_."

Not to be outdone, Harry mimicked him. " _Riddle_."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. It was then that Harry noticed that he and Riddle were practically in each other's personal space – and to his annoyance, Harry came only up to just past the other's chin!

He casually stepped away from Riddle.

Dumbledore looked between the two as they ended the contact, and his eyes twinkled in a way that made Harry feel slightly wary.

"Please take a seat, gentlemen," the Headmaster gestured, watching as they complied.

Harry cast a subtle glance towards Riddle who was seated between him and Snape – who by the way looked like he'd swallowed all of Dumbledore's lemon drops in one go. Also, beneath that, he saw the potions master was feeling a little bit stunned.

"I see you've already met, Harry, Tom," Dumbledore began, smiling as if it wasn't the _Dark Lord_ sitting in his office.

When he was met with nothing but a disdainful look, he smiled even brighter. "Excellent!" he clapped his hands. Harry's lips twitched despite himself. Dumbledore's happy attitude must be irritating Riddle to no end.

" ** _Something you find funny, Harry?_** " Riddle suddenly hissed quietly.

" ** _No, nothing. Just…_** " Another image popped unbidden into his mind, and he suppressed a laugh with difficulty.

" ** _You have roused my curiosity now, Harry. Tell me._** "

Harry straightened his face. " ** _Just wondering…what if Dumbledore offers you one of his lemon drops?_** "

Riddle's expression of distaste said it all.

Then he realized that Snape and Dumbledore had fallen silent, and looked up to see both of them peering at him curiously. It hit him then that he'd been speaking in Parseltounge, and they hadn't understood a single thing.

"Anything you would like to share, my boys?"Dumbledore asked, his eyes somehow seeming brighter.

Tom broke his gaze at Harry and looked at the Headmaster instead. "Nothing that concerns you, Dumbledore. It was a small….private discussion between Harry and myself."

Before Harry could flush and deny it hotly, he caught himself. That had been another of Riddle's baits.

Instead of looking snubbed, Dumbledore looked…cheerful. "Well, Tom, assuming you heard at least some of our conversation earlier, perhaps you would like to reveal what it is you actually wish to achieve here at Hogwarts?"

"I find myself missing my old school, Dumbledore. Surely you understand what Hogwarts is to me." Riddle replied. Harry barely prevented a snort. _Sure, that was why he kept attacking innocent students at Hogwarts._

"I know that you've always looked to Hogwarts as your home, my boy, but I think that time is long past now." Harry's eyes widened. It was then he realized that he knew practically nothing about Riddle's – Voldemort's past. Oh well, one more thing to uncover.

"You are a cunning old man, Albus Dumbledore," Riddle inclined his head at the Headmaster. "You will not believe my reasons, yet you are willing to go along with this act since you have no alternative."

"I would not say that…"

"Yet it is true," Riddle's voice rang throughout the office, "I am offering you a way to get what I want without harming anyone, although I can do this the hard way if you refuse."

"All right," Harry quickly interjected. "So the Headmaster has the advantage of ensuring the safety of Hogwarts, and you have the advantage of…well, whatever it is. Can we agree that it's beneficial all round and move on?"

Dumbledore smiled at him before returning to the conversation. "Now, I believe Severus has made arrangements for you, Tom, is that right, Severus?"

"Um, what arrangements?" Harry interrupted.

Riddle turned to him with a goading grin. "Allow me to introduce myself. Tom Marvolo Riddle, previously home-schooled student."

"Home-schooled? Or never mind." Harry leaned back and frowned. "Which year are you in?"

Dumbledore answered that question. "Third year, same as you, Harry." Harry wondered if that was some sort of hint to trail Riddle since they were in the same year.

"Slytherin…" Harry thought out loud, glancing at Riddle's green and silver crest. "Does anyone else know who he is? I mean, that he's Lord Voldemort posing as a student?"

"None besides the headmaster, Severus, and you." Riddle replied. "And I shall presume it will remain that way."

"So…you'll be staying in the dungeons?" At Riddle's short nod, Harry's eyebrows rose. He couldn't even imagine Riddle sleeping in a dormitory, or waiting for the bathroom to empty in the mornings…

"Appearances must be kept up, Potter." Snape had apparently again understood what he was thinking.

"I know. It just seemed bizarre for a moment." Harry retorted. Then another detail caught his attention. "Professor," he said, turning to Dumbledore, "How can you guarantee the students' safety?" He cast a glance towards Riddle when he felt his eyes piercing his cheek. "I suppose they can't just take your word for it…not binding enough." Riddle's eyes narrowed and flickered down to the Gryffindor crest on his robes. Harry snickered mentally. Yes, he was behaving more like a _Slytherin_ than a Gryffindor, he supposed. _If he tried to manipulate Harry, the Dark Lord was in for some nasty surprises._

Snape was staring at Harry too. He supposed that the Head of Slytherin House had picked up on his Slytherin vibes too…oops…

Fortunately Dumbledore came to his rescue by breaking the silence. "Tom has made a vow before he entered Hogwarts."

Harry noticed that Tom's jaw tightened at Dumbledore's use of his first name.

Dumbledore popped another lemon drop into his mouth, and said, "I'm afraid we must end this discussion soon, or you shall be late for class, Harry. And you as well, Severus."

Resisting the urge to drag a hand down his face, Harry got to his feet.

"My boy, my office door is always open should you need me." Dumbledore spoke, looking at Harry over the half-moon spectacles. Harry caught his gaze and understood that the Headmaster fully expected him to have problems with the newly enrolled Dark Lord. He nodded mutely and made his way to the door.

A hand caught his wrist, effectively spinning him around to face Riddle. " ** _We shall meet again soon, Harry_**."

Harry met his eyes and gave the slightest nod. " ** _I know. I'm counting on that_**." Riddle's grin widened at the answer. He released his wrist, and smirked.

Harry simply leveled a neutral look at him as he left the office with a silent Snape following.

 _._

At the bottom of the stairs, however, Snape stopped him. "Mr. Potter." Once he was sure he had Harry's full attention, he spoke unusually seriously. "This is no agreement, I hope you realize that. The Dark Lord is here because the headmaster cannot afford to turn down this proposal."

Harry nodded solemnly, but his mind was racing. If Snape was warning him of his volition, then things must be pretty grim. Harry wasn't an idiot. He knew Dumbledore hadn't given him the full story.

"I have no doubt he has a hidden agenda. Sir."

Snape nodded curtly. "Good. Now use some of that surprising intelligence you displayed up in the headmaster's office, and stay out of trouble." With a final sneer, Snape strode away with his robes billowing out behind him.

.

Harry made his own way a bit slower. He felt like the shock of the afternoon hadn't hit him properly yet. His mind whizzed.

* * *

When he finally reached the Gryffindor common room, he saw Ron and Hermione gathering their books. In a flash of disappointment, he realized that he'd missed his free period.

"Where were you, Harry?" Hermione asked him. "Ron and I did half of the Potions homework."

He shrugged. "Took a detour." _And completely lost myself…_

* * *

 ** _So! That was the first edited chapter! What are your thoughts? Please leave reviews. They are of great value to me._**

 ** _I have edited the entire story, so I would like reviews for each and every chapter!_**

 ** _Thank you_**


	2. Chapter 2 - Unwanted Encounters

_**Here's the second chapter! Oh and by the way, the first chapter starts after Harry receives the Firebolt. Please review after you read, it would make me so happy!**_

 _._

* * *

Harry kept a sharp look out for Tom Riddle when he, Ron and Hermione went to the Great Hall for dinner that night. But Riddle was nowhere to be seen. Harry discreetly scanned the Slytherin table, but he didn't see the young Dark Lord.

He chewed on his lips, deep in thought. He realized he had to watch his back, look out for himself. This time, he didn't have the luxury of confiding in his friends like he would have done normally. No. Time to let his Slytherin side deal with this.

"Harry!" He abruptly turned and plastered a convincing smile on his face.

"Yes?"

Hermione's worried brown eyes scanned him. "Are you all right? You seem…distracted."

"No, I'm fine, Hermione. Really." He kept his smile up.

"Really?" she retorted. "Then why did I have to call your name thrice before you heard?"

He was cornered. "Uh…I…" Her expression shifted to sympathetic, and Harry braced himself.

"I know you're worrying about Sirius Black, Harry. Don't; he's alright, I'm sure."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it. Hermione was barking up at entirely the wrong tree, but nonetheless it was not a subject he wanted to broach right now.

Ron came to his rescue thankfully.

"Hey mate! Did you hear what Fred and George are planning?" Harry dutifully asked for details while Hermione just sighed and started rummaging her book bag.

"Blow. I thought I had it…" Ron and Harry turned to see Hermione fiddling with a roll of parchment. She looked up. "I thought I got the _Quintessence: A Quest_ today at the library. I must have forgotten."

"No problem, Hermione. You and Ron go up to the common room after dinner. I'll drop by the library and get it for you," Harry offered. Not entirely for altruistic reasons. He badly needed some fresh air.

"Thanks, Harry."

* * *

.

There weren't many students left in the library when Harry entered. Madame Pince was busy in the corner, so he quietly made his way towards the piles of textbooks on the tables.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Boy Who Lived."

Harry froze at the familiar smooth voice, slowly turning to see Riddle behind him. "What are you doing here?" Harry demanded.

"I believe Dumbledore filled you in on the -"

"No, I meant the library. Not Hogwarts."

Riddle's eyes darkened at being interrupted. "Books offer knowledge, _Harry_. A library is similar to a vast treasure trove."

Harry stared at Riddle incredulously. "That's why you came to Hogwarts? To get to the library?"

Riddle chuckled, but the sound made shivers run down Harry's back. "Among other things. What is it you're looking for?"

The abrupt change in subject threw Harry off-guard. "Uh… _Quintessence: A Quest_ _?"_

"Charms." Riddle reached up and pulled a book out. "Here you are."

Harry blinked. "Um, thanks." He made no move to leave, but just stood there looking at Riddle critically. Riddle looked back.

"Am I that handsome you cannot tear your eyes away from my face, Harry?" he asked with a smirk.

"What? Are you delusional?" Harry gripped his book tightly. "I was just wondering, now that you're at Hogwarts, what are you planning to do?"

 _Nice, Harry. Real smooth. What makes you think he'll tell you?_

"What makes you think I'll tell you?"

Harry grinned. "Well, there you are. You definitely have a hidden agenda."

"Hence we come back to the old argument." Riddle gestured to a chair. "Sit."

Despite himself, Harry sat across from the Dark Lord. "Old or new, it's the main point here, isn't it?"

Riddle cast a spell around them to ensure that nobody could eavesdrop on their conversation.

"The mark of a wise man is being able to understand something from more than one point of view. To tell the truth, I couldn't care less for the students of this school. _Apart from_ _you_ , of course." Riddle flashed his perfect white teeth at Harry in a predatory grin.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm flattered. But you're avoiding the question."

"Pardon?"

"Why did you want to come to Hogwarts? How long are you staying for? And who else knows you're here?"

"Breathe, Harry," said Riddle, holding up a hand. "I will answer your questions if I can be sure this stays between us. And you seem to have given this some thought."

"Kind of hard not to when you find out that an insane Dark Lord has enrolled in the same school as you."

"I have done nothing to deserve such accusations."

Harry couldn't stop a disbelieving laugh slipping past his lips. "Of course, I beg your pardon, Lord Voldemort, you're utterly innocent, you've never hurt anybody or killed people, have you? Sorry, my mistake."

Riddle eyed him lazily. "You're quite fierce when you are angry, did you know that?"

Harry groaned in frustration. "You're a sadistic bastard, did you know that?"

To his annoyance, Riddle only laughed. "Anything else you'd like to inform me?"

"Yes. You can stop with the Dark Lord glowers because they don't scare me," Harry said, fervently hoping that Riddle couldn't hear his heart hammering against his ribcage.

With the agility of a viper, Riddle's hand shot out and seized Harry's wrist. "Your pulse is _thrumming_ , _Harry_. You _do_ fear me."

Not knowing what to say to that, Harry tried to twist his hand out of the Slytherin's grasp. "Let go of me!" he whispered furiously. Riddle didn't budge."Riddle! _Let go!_ "

And that was absolutely the worst possible moment for Ron's cautious voice to be heard. "Harry, mate, are you here?"

Harry hurriedly yanked his hand out of Riddle's grip with a whispered "Later!", and raced around the bookshelf between him and Ron before the redhead could turn the corner and spot Riddle.

He nearly ran into Ron.

"Here you are!" Ron said in relief. "We waited, but you didn't turn up, so I came to look. Did you get the book?"

"Yeah, got it." Harry held it up.

"All right, let's get out of here. Madam Pince keeps giving me the evil eye…" Ron muttered.

As they walked out, Ron looked at Harry quizzically. "You alright, mate? You're looking a bit flushed."

Harry touched his cheek, resolutely not thinking of Riddle. "Um, it was rather warm in there…"

He was glad when Ron let it go.

.

* * *

After a rather restless sleep, Harry followed Ron down to the Gryffindor common room the next morning.

Seamus Finnegan looked up from a chess board. "Hey you two sleepyheads!" he called. "Hermione left a message for you two- she's already gone down to the Great Hall, by the way- she said, well, to quote, she was "not going to stand around waiting for you two thick-headed Quidditch-obsessed idiots to haul yourselves from your beds" and that she'll meet you on the way to the dungeons."

Ron winced. "Typical Hermione. We aren't that late. C'mon Harry, let's go get some breakfast. I'm starving!"

"You always are, Ron!" Dean joined them. Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville made their way to the Great Hall. Near the doors, Neville was nearly knocked over by a horde of giggling girls.

"Girls!" Dean said in disgust while helping poor Neville up. "You alright there mate?"

Neville nodded, gazing across the hall. "Something's up today. Look, over there." He nodded towards the Hufflepuff table. The others looked over to see a cluster of girls at the end of the table, making a rather annoying riot. Even the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins were buzzing.

"What the hell is happening?" Ron wondered. They made their way to the Gryffindor table. Harry passed another group of girls and heard bits of what they were saying, "Oooh… so handsome!", "Hope he's single…", " _Elegant!_ "

The boys seated themselves and started eating, casting bewildered glances around them. Harry, trying to ignore the tittering girls around him, leaned over his bacon to Ron. "Do you suppose something's happened? And why is it that only the _girls_ are so excited?"

Ron shrugged. "We'll meet Hermione soon enough. She'll know… oh, here she is." Harry turned to see Hermione rushing up.

"Morning, you two sleepyheads. Still not finished?"

"Hermione, what in the world's going on?" Ron caught her arm gently.

"Oh, you mean the excitement," Hermione nodded, seating herself next to Ron. "The cause of all that is the person at the end of the Slytherin table. The new student, over there."

With a terrible sinking feeling in his gut, Harry turned to see Tom Riddle calmly seated at the Slytherin table, immersed in a newspaper. But when Harry saw him, Riddle raised his head, looked past all the other faces, straight at Harry and _smirked_.

Harry had a sudden urge to bang his head on the nearest wall.

.

* * *

Only half a day had gone by, but Harry was ready to give up and retreat to Gryffindor tower to bury himself under the sheets and have a nice long nap. It appeared that Ron shared his sentiments.

"My head's aching with all the remarks these girls are making about that new guy. What's his name again, anyway?" Ron asked on their way to Potions class.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer. But Lavender Brown jumped into the pause in the conversation. "His name's Tom. Tom Riddle. Isn't he _handsome_? I mean, so tall, so…. So stunning! "

Ron snorted derisively. "He's a _Slytherin_!"

"Who cares?! He _is_ handsome." Parvati put in. "He was all everybody was talking about today. I think he doesn't have a girlfriend yet…. Hopefully…"

"Not for long," giggled Romilda Vane. She flipped her hair over one shoulder. "I was thinking of offering to show him around later today."

"I bet one of the Slytherin girls will have beat you to it," Hermione interrupted. "Besides, we don't even know if he's a nice person." Harry snorted at that.

"She's right, you know," Lavender said, sounding quite dejected, "I bet Daphne Greengrass has got her claws into him already."

"Or Pansy Parkinson," reminded Parvati.

"Malfoy won't be happy about that," Ron sniggered in Harry's ear. They reached the door of the Potions classroom, but were unable to move through. The reason being the big group of mainly girls peeping into the potions classroom.

"What's up?" called Seamus from behind Ron and Harry.

"I don't know," Harry answered, craning his neck to see past the heads that were blocking the doorway.

Squeals and giggles erupted from the throng of girls gathered near the door. "Oh for Merlin's sake!" Hermione snapped. She tried to push past the crowd.

"He's here he's here!" a shrill voice cried.

Ron looked at Harry. "I think the new guy's in there, mate." Harry groaned. _Tom Riddle was in Potions too? Great. So much for keeping his head clear!_

Patience thinning, he tried to enter the class, but the girls who were peeping in at the door wouldn't move.

"What in the blazes is going on here?" A deceptively silky voice cut through the air, and suddenly everybody stopped. Severus Snape loomed up over the students, his face set in cold exasperation. "Everybody inside, NOW!" he snapped, and swept into the class himself.

Harry tried to squeeze in too, but with Riddle's fangirls still lingering at the door, he was stuck. Someone pushed into him, and he stumbled into the Potions class, letting out a low yelp as he hit the floor. Two more bodies fell on top of him none too gently.

A roar of laughter greeted him as he was squashed under Ron and Neville. He cursed, fixing his glasses and scrambling up from under his fellow Gryffindors.

"Oh, look, the lions are just falling over themselves to come in!" Pansy's cackle reached the embarrassed Gryffindors, making them quicken their pace to their respective places.

Neville and Ron picked themselves off the floor as Snape drawled, "Ten points off Gryffindor for disrupting the class."

Malfoy smirked at Harry as he and Ron hurried to their places. "Stupid bat, it's all that Riddle person's fault," Ron muttered under his breath, setting up his cauldron. And Harry couldn't help but agree.

* * *

 _..._

 ** _What do you think? Please leave reviews!_**


	3. Chapter 3 - Grasping at Straws

_**Chapter 3 edited! Please review, and thanks to those who already have!**_

 _._

* * *

"Today, you will attempt to make the Shrinking Solution," Snape began from the front of the class. "A more subtle potion than many appreciate at first savor, the Shrinking Solution causes creatures to shrink to a younger form."

 _Wow, I would never have figured that out_ , Harry thought snidely.

Snape moved along the front row. "It is bright green when brewed correctly and, if prepared incorrectly, it can be poisonous. _Do you hear me, Mr. Longbottom_?"

"Yes- yes, Professor," Neville stammered, flushing.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry exchanged glances, and turned to their own potions.

Harry started slicing his daisy roots, while keeping an eye on the instructions. After a while, Hermione nudged him. Harry turned to look at her.

"Harry, he's staring this way," she whispered.

"Who's staring?" he asked softly.

"Tom Riddle. He's been staring for a few minutes now," Hermione glanced towards the Slytherin, "He's still looking at you…"

Harry slowly looked over his shoulder. Tom was looking directly at him. Their eyes met, and Harry looked away. _Why is he staring at me? Annoying git!_

He looked back again. Tom's eyes were still fixed on him. Worse, he didn't even look away or appear embarrassed to be caught staring.

"Why is he staring?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry turned back to his ingredients. "I don't know," he replied.

"Mr. Potter, I see you have not completed a single stage of your potion, and yet you see it fit to converse with your classmates. Five points from Gryffindor." Snape's voice came triumphantly.

Outraged, Harry began slicing the rest of his roots so viciously that Ron leaned away. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts for only a day, but he was already getting Harry into trouble.

He winced at Snape's yelling at poor Neville. "Mr. Longbottom, the instructions say 'heat gently', not heat till the cauldron melts and the potion evaporates!"

.

* * *

By the end of the day, Harry was seething. Riddle had been in all of Harry's classes, which included Charms, Divination, Transfigurations, and Potions, except for Herbology. The only subjects they hadn't had that day were Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures, and Harry strongly suspected that Riddle would turn up for those classes too, being his infuriatingly perfect self.

Harry had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Riddle was perfect in everything. His potions were perfect – Snape wouldn't dare to say otherwise, anyway –, his transfigurations were flawless, and his charms were sound.

Also, it was becoming unbearable to listen to the unending gushing of the Gryffindor girls about Riddle's attractive face and wonderful brains. He had studiously ignored the young Dark Lord after Potions, but he could just _feel_ Riddle's eyes boring into the back of his head till his cheeks heated up. He had stopped himself from looking back at him though. No, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

It was aggravating, being under his constant stare all the time, sitting in the same room, knowing who he was, forced to pretend that everything was just lovely.

.

* * *

Tom Riddle put down the sixth book he had opened that night, and leaned back in his chair. Night had fallen, and it was cold, but he welcomed the coolness with its familiarity.

His day had been… amusing, especially after Harry's ridiculous entrance in Potions. He had watched Harry throughout the day unflinchingly, even when Harry was clearly uncomfortable with being gazed at. A part of him relished in being able to control the Golden Boy so easily. After all, everything they taught at Hogwarts was ridiculously easy. Tom could have done it all without his wand in his sleep. As it was, he merely finished whatever the class was dealing with and leaned back and observed Harry.

 _Harry Potter_. He leaned his chin on his entwined fingers. An important piece in the chessboard, but was he a player or a pawn? He was on the Light side, no doubt, but Dumbledore was keeping things from poor innocent Harry. It could take precious time and effort, but maybe Harry could be influenced to see what the Dark fought for…

However, they Gryffindor had surprised him back in the headmaster's office. _That_ had been behavior worthy of a _Slytherin_. How _intriguing_ … He instinctively felt that Harry had impossibly deep hidden depths – perhaps not known to even his closest acquaintances.

He was _fascinating_.

Definitely an irreplaceable asset if he was successful in bringing Harry over to his side.

Then there was _Severus Snape_. He may bear the Dark Mark, but Voldemort had his suspicions as to where his loyalty truly lay. He had more than once pondered over the possibility of Severus being a spy for Dumbledore, but with Snape being a skilled Occlumens, it was impossible to rip the truth out. And even if he was a traitor, he was too useful to the Dark to be gotten rid of.

 _Albus Dumbledore_. He may seem the grandfatherly old Headmaster with the white beard and twinkling eyes who offers candy to everybody who comes to him, but Voldemort wasn't fooled by his wide smiles. He was a cunning, manipulative old fox, and could do things people would never even dream of him being capable of. 'For the greater good', he would sacrifice his own loved ones. Voldemort was still not convinced that the Headmaster was completely trapped by his latest plan – the old coot had been far too yielding at the time, unlike the Boy Who Lived. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to have a few Aurors hanging around the school to track his movements.

The whole result of Voldemort's latest plan would depend on his skill, acting, and the way he would manipulate everything to his favour.

Hogwarts was, in a way, a treasure trove. By getting Dumbledore to allow him to stay at Hogwarts, he could achieve so many things at once. He was closer to the elusive Headmaster, so could keep an eye on him. He had ample opportunities to dig up information on the Order of the Phoenix. He could have a tight hold on his slippery Death Eater Severus. He could twist Harry Potter's life to make things go the way he wanted. He could encourage the children of his Death Eaters to join the Dark forces.

He smiled to himself. Oh yes, this plan was brilliant. Of course, he had not forsaken his duties as Dark Lord in the meantime. Lucius was keeping everything running, under Voldemort's word from Hogwarts.

 _Lucius_. Another power-hungry, smooth-speaking Malfoy. His son, Draco, was Potter's rival, but Tom had warned Lucius to tell his son to stay away from the fierce Gryffindor. It had taken only one icy look to get the point across.

And with none but a handful of people knowing he was back, the Wizarding World would not know what hit them. 

Lord Voldemort would rise to power once again.

.

* * *

Up in the Gryffindor dormitories, all was still, as it should be seeing it was just past midnight. Yet within the red drapes of one bed lay a troubled mind.

Harry sighed and gritted his teeth. Riddle was proving to be too difficult for words. _How was he supposed to keep an eye on him when Riddle was keeping both eyes on Harry?_

The girls made it worse. Didn't they realize who it was they were batting their eyelashes at? At least Hermione wasn't fawning over him. Even Ginny had been giggling in the corridor, oblivious to Ron's scowling.

Ginny! He sat up straight. Hadn't she recognized Tom Riddle? Surely she must have seen him in the chamber of secrets. Even if she hadn't, wouldn't she have remembered the name? Harry didn't expect the other Weasleys to remember the name, after all, Dumbledore had kept things involving Ginny quiet. But Ginny herself should have recalled the boy who almost got her killed!

 _Or maybe…. She remembers, but is keeping quiet about it…._

Harry decided to find her in the morning. Hopefully he'd get some answers.

.

* * *

Harry found the youngest Weasley near the portrait hole the next day. "Hey," he grinned.

"Oh! Hello, Harry," Ginny beamed back.

"Er, yes… so how are you?" Harry asked, wondering why she had beamed so brightly at him.

"Fine, you?"

"Same," he racked his brains to carry on the conversation. "So, uh, everybody's talking about the new student… have you heard?"

"Oh yes, in Slytherin. Pity he isn't in Gryffindor. He's rather good-looking, isn't he?" she giggled.

Harry smiled weakly. "So everyone's saying. He- uh…he … does he seem familiar to you?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, I'm sure I've never seen him before. More's the pity. I'd have liked to know him – he's so gorgeous!" she looked around guiltily. "Don't tell Ron I said that."

"I won't," Harry promised, "So…. Er… his name's a little common-"

"Tom Riddle. It suits him, doesn't it? And what do you mean – it's common? I've never heard of anyone with that name. He's unique, too!"

"Right, my mistake," Harry replied with a sinking heart. "See you, Ginny."

.

…

* * *

"… She doesn't remember him in the least!" finished Harry in despair. "How is it possible, sir? Do you think Riddle erased her memory or something?"

Harry was standing in front of Dumbledore. It was afternoon, and he had rushed up to meet the Headmaster to ask him about Ginny's puzzling behavior.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Quite right, Harry. Miss Weasley's memory has been altered, but it was I who performed that particular charm. You see, when I knew Tom was going to attend Hogwarts, I felt it prudent to remove as many potential problems as possible. As you probably realized, had Miss Weasley recognized Tom Riddle from the debacle with the diary, there would have been unspeakable consequences. Therefore I took necessary actions to ensure that Tom would remain only another student in everyone's eyes."

Harry looked bewildered. "Does she remember anything at all, sir?"

"Oh well, she will not remember the name nor the face of the young man in the diary, nor will she remember her correspondence with Tom and the location of the chamber of secrets. But aside from that, she should remember everything else."

Harry turned this over in his head. On one hand, it was merciful, for Ginny to not have to remember the events of last year. On the other hand, it meant that now there was truly no one left to recognize Riddle. One could look at him, and all they'd see was a polite, perfect young man.

Harry couldn't help but resent Ginny a little. She had no bad memories at all, and in the end, it was he who had to bear the burden alone.

The headmaster looked sympathetically at him. He probably guessed at what was running in Harry's head. Before he could mention it, however, Harry quickly spoke.

"Does that mean that she won't be a target for Riddle?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I think the only person at risk is you, Harry. He is…I fear, somewhat taken with you. You must be wary."

"I'll be careful, sir." _I'll run the other way as soon as I see him, sir._

.

* * *

The door opened for the thirty first time that day, and Professor Snape stepped into the Headmaster's office. "You sent for me, Headmaster?"

"Ah, Severus, I did. Come in, have a lemon drop."

Snape declined politely, and took a seat. "What is it you wished to discuss with me?"

Dumbledore leaned towards the Potions Master. "I believe you already know, Severus. It is the matter of our newest student, the Dark Lord."

Snape grimaced. "Has something happened?"

"That was what I wished to ask you, Severus. Both Tom Riddle and Harry Potter are in your class together, I assume?"

"Indeed."

"Has there been any sign, any conflict?"

"Aside from the fact that the greater part of the female population here adopts behavior similar to that of banshees when in close proximity to him, you mean?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Well, that is to be expected, Severus. You must admit that Tom Riddle is a rather pleasing specimen of a young man. Quite handsome."

Snape made a choking noise.

"But that was not what I meant. Has Tom shown any…let us say, strangeness in his behavior towards Harry?"

"I noticed him staring at Potter fixedly throughout my class today. Not once did he take his eyes off him. It quite unnerved Potter, to say the least of it," Snape said.

Dumbledore tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That does not bring us any closer to discovering Tom's purpose here. I think, Severus, it is up to Harry to keep up with Tom's plotting."

Snape snorted. "He seemed to me, quite eager to pretend that the Dark Lord was not sitting in the same class as him."

"You mustn't blame him, Severus. After all, it is his sole enemy…"

"You think I should encourage Potter to interact with the Dark Lord?" Snape asked disbelievingly.

"I'm afraid so. As a professor and the Head of Tom's House, it should prove easy for you."

"What will Potter do, Headmaster? He will certainly not take it well…"

"That, Severus, is entirely up to the two of them."

.

* * *

The gleam of a sheet of long blond hair could be spotted even in the shadows.

Lucius Malfoy shifted his feet. He smoothed his robes. He clenched his hand around his wand. The shadows threw everything into darkness. He stood under the shelter of one of the trees in the Forbidden Forest, waiting.

"Cannot stand still, Lucius?"

The voice came from behind him. Lucius whipped around and dropped to his knees. "My Lord, forgive me," he began.

Voldemort raised a hand. "Enough. What news do you bring?"

Lucius rose to his feet slowly at a gesture from the Dark Lord. "My Lord, everything is as you commanded. The Death Eaters are scattered, but keep in touch. All raids have been postponed. They await your word, my Lord."

"Make sure all is well, Lucius. I would not want to be forced to vent my displeasure on anyone."

"My Lord." Lucius bowed low. As he straightened slightly, he watched the teenage boy in front of him carefully. One wrong move, and he'd be under the Cruciatus curse before he'd realized what he'd done.

The Dark Lord was handsome, he observed. Even with a body of his younger self, he could still make the strongest Death Eater cower at his feet with a mere glance. He looked calm, cool, collected, standing there in his inky black robes, but if anything, he looked more dangerous than ever.

"Things at Hogwarts… are as I expected. The old fool is forced to bend to my rules, and Harry Potter is under my eye. I hope you have spoken to your son, Lucius."

Lucius bowed lower. "I have, my Lord. While I did not reveal your identity, I made it quite clear that he was to stay away from my Lord's path. I also told him keep away from the Potter boy."

Voldemort caressed his wand between his fingers. "This will lead us to victory, Lucius. Make sure that none is aware of where I am."

"It shall be done, my Lord."

Lucius bowed again, not simply out of necessity, but also out of the renewed respect he bore for his lord. Lucius Malfoy was one of the many who longed for the new world their dark lord would bring about. The Dark Lord would rise to power gloriously – and this new plan, however surprising it was, would be nothing but support.

 _._

* * *

 ** _Your reviews fuel me, and help me make the story better! So please review!_**

 ** _How do you like the edited version?_**

 ** _Of course, very little of the actual story-line has changed, but I guess the changes are noticeable. I would love to hear from all my readers!_**


	4. Chapter 4 - Groundwork

**_Thank you to everyone who reviewed...Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it and leave reviews!_**

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* * *

In the soft light of dawn, Harry grabbed his broom and followed Oliver Wood out into the pitch where the rest of the Gryffindor team was milling around.

"All right, you slowpokes, gather around!" Wood called out.

Harry adjusted his glasses and walked over to where the Weasley twins were standing. "Hey Fred and George," he greeted.

"Hey Harry!" they said together.

Harry looked around at the rest of the students. There was Fred and George, the beaters, and the three chasers – Alicia and Angelina from fifth year, and Katie from forth year. Wood was the Keeper, and Harry, of course, played Seeker.

"Now, listen up," began Wood, "we already lost the match against the Hufflepuffs – it isn't your fault, Harry, it was the dementors – so we need to come up with a good game strategy to win our next match. It's going to be against Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaws won't go down without a fight," commented Katie Bell.

"Well, we can't give them the chance. So we'll practice every week; one practice at dawn, aside from our usual practice in the afternoon once a week. Questions?"

"Why do we need to practice at dawn?" asked Alicia.

Wood grinned. "That way, nobody else is around, so we can work out our plans secretly, and no one can spy on us." He looked rather pleased with both himself and his brainwave. "I've already booked the pitch and cleared things up with Professor McGonagall."

"Really, Wood, don't you think…" started Fred.

"….you're being paranoid?" finished George. Harry smiled. The twins always spoke like that, and people lost track of them if they weren't used to it.

Wood glared at them. "This is _Quidditch_ we're talking about! If we want to win the house cup, we have to take this seriously, all right?"

Fred and George looked at each other and then saluted Wood. "You're the Captain, boss!" they said together.

"Thank you," Wood said sarcastically. He kicked the box on the ground near him open, and took out its contents. "Let's have a quick warm up. Harry," he released the golden Snitch, "there goes your prize."

Harry kicked off from the ground after the Snitch. Little did he know that he was being watched by a certain pale Slytherin.

Tom stood at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, partly hidden in the shadows of the stands. His eyes followed Harry as he flew around the pitch after the Snitch. His flying, Tom observed, was graceful and light. 

_Captivating_. 

Harry's broom was sturdy, and Harry himself was comfortable in the air. But what was more entrancing was the look of bliss on Harry's face as he spiraled after the golden ball.

Tom gazed at the young Seeker in unwilling admiration. He was skilled, certainly, and very agile. Yet it was his happiness that caught Tom's attention. He looked _free_ – his dark hair ruffled in the wind, his cheeks flushed, and his green eyes sparkling behind the glasses.

This was a different Harry. This was _Harry_ , not the Golden Boy. This was a thirteen-year-old boy who had _no_ care in the world.

But when he came back to the ground, he would once more be forced to become the Boy Who Lived. A sudden flash of … _something_ … shot through Tom – he was the one who had deprived Harry of a free life. He frowned. He was not at fault, and certainly not guilty of any actions. 

Guilt. A bothersome emotion that hindered even the most successful man if he did not have his emotions in control. He felt not the slightest bit guilty. To feel guilt he would first have to think that his past actions were a mistake, and Lord Voldemort did not ever doubt his choices.

He turned and left the pitch abruptly, not even turning to look back at Harry's exultant whoop when he caught the Snitch.

.

* * *

Up in the headmaster's office, Dumbledore was stroking Fawkes with a million thoughts running in his head. It wasn't often that something had him thinking so deeply. And worriedly. The whole farce of Lord Voldemort attending Hogwarts as a mere student was similar to having a ticking explosive walking in the corridors. He still had no idea as to why Voldemort would choose to return to Hogwarts. There was nothing of value that he might have wanted. He turned over the possibilities in his mind, in the end, dismissing most of them as unlikely.

Unless, of course, like he had considered on countless occasions earlier, he was seeking to cause harm to either Harry or himself. Or, in that case, Severus. Either way, Voldemort had given up too much to carry out this newest plan for it to have simple consequences…

"Has age caught up with you, Dumbledore?" A voice brought him back to the present. He gave Fawkes one last pat and turned around.

"Age is but a number, Tom," he returned, "Do come in."

Tom sauntered in elegantly, looking relaxed, but Dumbledore knew he was anything but. He watched as his former pupil settled into a chair in front of him. He had no idea what Tom was going to talk about, but for the moment, he decided to play along.

"Lemon drop?" he pushed a dish of candy towards Tom.

"No thank you, Dumbledore, I'm afraid I have no liking for them."

"Pity. What then, Tom, do you have a liking for?" Dumbledore asked.

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Straight to the point, are we? Not going to bother with small talk, old man?"

"I think we both know this isn't the setting for a cozy catch up over tea, my boy," replied Dumbledore.

Tom smirked, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Well then. My liking is for things that are _out of my reach_ , Dumbledore," he paused, "although… things that are out of my reach never remain that way long…" Seeing a flash of consternation in Dumbledore's eyes that he couldn't prevent, Tom continued smoothly. "Take, for example, one _Harry Potter_. You must realize that he is but a hairsbreadth away from me… _vulnerable_ … It surprises me greatly that you have not seen it fit to ensure his safety. After all, do you not care for the boy?"

Dumbledore rested his hands on the table top. "You won't hurt Harry, Tom, I know. You are alike more than you realize."

Tom sneered in response. "I assure you, Dumbledore, the Golden Boy and the Dark Lord could not be more different from each other. The idea is amusing, though."

Sighing and looking old, Dumbledore looked straight at Tom. "Tom, what do you want? Why have you come to Hogwarts? I cannot leave my students in danger." He knew they both knew that Lord Voldemort would never divulge his secrets, not until he had destroyed everything they held dear, and only when they could do nothing more than sift through the pieces in despair.

Tom rose from his chair. "I have no reason to bear ill intentions towards any student in this school, and you know it. Although… this does _not_ include your precious _Harry_." He looked down at the Headmaster. "I warn you to stay away from my path, Dumbledore, or your Golden Boy will suffer the consequences."

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* * *

In the lions' common room, Harry grinned to himself behind his copy of the Daily Prophet. Ron was still complaining about the scratches he'd received in an unpleasant encounter with some…unfriendly plants in Herbology today.

"…Sprout should have known better than to keep those bloody beasts in the greenhouse!" he moaned, touching the red lines on his arms gently. "Ow."

Hermione laid aside a completed essay. "They're _plants_ , Ron! And for the record, everybody knows how to deal with them except for you!"

Ron scowled. "They shot _thorns_ at me, Hermione, and all you're doing is lecturing."

Lips thinning, Hermione began, "Well, Ronald, if you pay _any_ attention to your lessons you would know that Spiky Bushes can be destroyed with the Fire-Making spell…"

"Well, some of us don't spend all our time with our noses buried in our books!"

"I can see that! Hence your ignorance on simple details like this! All you do is play chess all the time!"

Harry looked up in alarm. The argument was escalating. "Hey-"

"Thank you, but I don't want to be boring _bookworm_ like you!" Ron retorted. Harry winced. Hermione gasped in rage, swept up her books, and stomped out, ignoring Harry's calling.

"Great, now you've done it, Ron," Harry groaned.

Ron looked stubborn. "She doesn't have to start a bloody lecture every time something happens…"

Harry sighed and turned back to the newspaper. Ron and Hermione had been annoyed with each other a lot lately. They argued frequently, and although the fights didn't last for more than a day, it was beginning to get tiresome.

.

* * *

The students of Hogwarts were not as smart as they used to be, Tom contemplated. He was seated in a corner of the library. The shadows hid him while he lazily completed his essays. Really, these lessons were ridiculous. He was impatient with the rest of the students, but he reminded himself to bide his time; the results would be more satisfactory in the end.

One thing he gained from attending his classes was the chance to watch Harry. He had carefully chosen his classes after investigating Harry's timetable.

Tom attended Transfigurations, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts since they were compulsory subjects. He had been rather surprised to learn that some students were dropping History of Magic in favor of an additional elective, but it was hardly a surprise, he sneered, especially in the case of History of Magic, considering the lack of enthusiasm in that particular class. He noticed that Harry had chosen Divination and Care of Magical Creatures out of the electives.

Tom had picked Divination out of curiosity, but Care of Magical Creatures he dropped, repulsed by the idea of been taught by a half-giant.

Nevertheless, he had plenty of opportunities to approach the Boy Who Lived…

The problem was that Harry kept steadfastly ignoring him, even though Tom knew he felt that he was being watched. He frowned. It would be difficult to get to Harry if he wouldn't even acknowledge that Voldemort was in Hogwarts. He had planned to disrupt Harry's life, shatter his hopes, dissolve his faith in his friends, and get the revolting idea of _love_ out of his naïve head. With everything he held in his heart crushed, Harry would be an easy target, and perhaps not a target at all, if he could be persuaded to join the Dark forces.

Voldemort smirked evilly as a new plan formed in his brilliant head. What better way to get the boy's attention than to force him to spend time with him?

Considering the tight spot that Dumbledore was in, he'd have no choice, but to submit to his decisions. He picked up his and Harry's timetables and pored over them. 

It was time to take the plan to the next stage.

* * *

 _ **Well! Another chapter! Please let me know what you think!**_


	5. Chapter 5 - Nefarious Plots

_**Hello, readers! Here's another chapter! Please review after you read!**_

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* * *

The weekend dawned sunny and bright, and the Gryffindor common room was rather empty in the morning. Harry opted to go for a walk. By himself, since Ron was sleeping in and Hermione had picked up another book.

As he strolled over the grounds, he caught sight of a tall brown-haired figure ahead of him. He grinned and quickened his steps.

"Good morning, Professor," he said.

Professor Lupin turned around. "Ah, Harry, good morning," he smiled back, "Care to take a walk with me?"

As Harry fell into step with him, he scanned Professor Lupin's face. It was looking rather tired and slightly ragged, and his pace was a little slow and cautious. "Sir, are you feeling alright?" he asked tentatively.

Lupin smiled. "I am as well as can be considering someone who has my affliction, but it is I who ought to ask you that question, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine, so are Ron and Hermione."

"I am putting everybody at risk by remaining at Hogwarts…"

"No, you're not," Harry protested vehemently, "you can't be held responsible for something that isn't your fault. You always take your potion, and what happened a couple of weeks ago was an accident! Nobody can blame you for transforming – it happens without your control! It's not like you hurt us – or wanted to – anyway!"

Lupin shook his head gravely. "You don't understand, Harry. When I transform, my instincts take over… Look what happened in front the Womping Willow. If it hadn't been for Sirius, I would have attacked you and your friends!"

"Well… Snape was there…" offered Harry.

Lupin laughed bitterly. "I would have torn him into pieces for certain."

Harry sighed. He was beginning to realize that Lupin wouldn't forget that night in a hurry. "Well, I guess you had a really rough night too. I mean – fighting Sirius, and then being mauled by a hippogriff…" he pointed out.

"That's putting it mildly," Lupin gave a small smile. "By the way, Sirius told me that you and Miss Granger saved him – and the Headmaster filled me in on the details." He smiled down at Harry with a touch of pride. "The patronas you cast was so _powerful_ that it cleared at least a radius of _three miles_ of the dementors!"

Harry nodded, feeling a tad uncomfortable with the praise. "You were the one who taught it to me, sir."

Lupin still looked at him with the same awed expression. "It's true that I taught you. But to cast a patronas at _all_ at this age is impressive, Harry. To cast a _corporeal_ patronas against _hundreds_ of dementors in the state you were in with such _intensity_ …" Lupin shook his head. "That goes beyond a simple Outstanding, Harry. It was… _amazing_ to say the least of it."

Feeling even more bashful, Harry clumsily attempted to change the subject. "Sirius sent me a new broom – Ron says it's one of the best in the market!"

"Well, I'll be sure to pass on your thanks to Sirius," Lupin said fondly smiling at Harry's enthusiasm.

Harry's eyes widened. "Wait a minute, so he keeps in touch with you?" he asked in a surprised tone. "I mean, he told me he had to go into hiding for some time… Aren't the aurors still looking for him?"

Lupin cast a silencing charm around them to make sure no one would hear what they were talking about. Then he turned to Harry. "Actually, Sirius _is_ in hiding, but he's in touch with me, and with quite a number of other people, in that case." At Harry's curious face, he elaborated. "The Black family is actually quite wealthy – you probably don't know much about wizarding families, do you?" Harry flushed and nodded. "You ask Sirius to explain this to you sometime. The thing is, Sirius has a house – I can't exactly tell you what – and he's staying there for the moment. The house belongs to him, as the next Black in line, and also, it's heavily warded so that only a select few can come there. It's also placed under the Fidelius charm, so he's pretty much safe there."

Harry blinked. _I hardly know anything about him even though he's my godfather…_ He looked up suddenly. "Would it…would it be possible for me to visit him, Professor?"

Lupin thought it over. "Well, I don't think so, but I'll talk to Dumbledore and let you know."

"Thanks, sir," Harry said gratefully, although internally feeling rather hopeless. Sirius was one of the last links to his parents, and Harry was loathe to let go of him.

"I understand," Lupin said gently with a small smile, "And I'll do my best to get you a chance to see Sirius."

Harry gave a tiny smile in return.

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* * *

Saturday nights in the common room were always fun. That night, the Gryffindors were in high spirits, and the common room was cheerful and noisy to boot. In one corner, Fred and George were sitting over a game of Wizarding Chess. Hermione was reading a book as usual. Neville, Ron, Harry, Dean, and Seamus were playing Exploding Snap. In another corner, a group of girls, including Parvati Patil, Romilda Vane, Ginny Weasley, and Lavender Brown, sat huddled around, whispering and giggling.

"Hey, I'd almost forgotten! We can go to Hogsmeade tomorrow!" exclaimed Ron in the middle of the game. "Anyone going? I am."

"Seamus and I are going too," answered Dean. "What about you, Neville and Harry?

"I'm coming; I have to go to the apothecary." Neville said.

"No wonder you run out of potions ingredients so quickly, Neville – you blow up your cauldron at least thrice a week!"

Neville flushed and turned to Harry. "You're coming too, right, Harry? Didn't see you last time, or the time before that."

Harry sighed unhappily. "No, I'm not coming – I'm not allowed to... Hey, it's alright, really, you guys have a good time," he said hastily, seeing their pitying faces. "Besides, Ron got me something from Hogsmeade last time, didn't you, Ron? A sneakoscope."

"Blimey! I've always wanted one of those!" said Dean. "Maybe I can get one tomorrow."

"What do you think that's about?" Seamus asked, jerking his head towards the almost dozen girls gathered around.

Ron shrugged. "Probably gossiping about that Riddle bloke again – it's all the girls do these days!"

Harry snorted. Dean snickered. "Jealous, Ron?"

"You wish," scoffed Ron.

"It's surprising, though," Neville commented, "He only came a week ago, but he's already popular all around the school."

"And his work is perfect. I bet, for all his good looks, he's a bookworm…"

"Yes, you're right. He doesn't spend time with other people much… doesn't even take notice of a single girl fawning over him, does he?"

Harry groaned. "Why are we talking about Tom Riddle, anyway? I hear enough about him in the corridors every day, thank you very much."

"You've got that right, mate," Ron nodded. "And he's a _Slytherin_ , but everyone seems to have forgotten that."

Just then, the meeting of girls broke up and they went off on their ways. Ginny came over and sat down next to Hermione.

"Hey, Gin, what were all of you chattering over?" Ron asked in a loud whisper.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "Only the girls being stupid as usual."

Hermione looked up. "Why, what do you mean?"

"Romilda is going to slip Tom Riddle a _love potion_!" she said dramatically.

" _What?!_ " blurted out Harry in horror. _Was she out of her mind?_

"Are you kidding? Bloody hell!" Ron looked stunned.

Ginny nodded. "She really is going to do it. Tomorrow, during breakfast, I think."

Harry vaguely wondered if he ought to warn Tom.

"But where would she even get love potion?" Neville interjected.

"Maybe from Hogsmeade. Or Diagon Alley." Dean answered thoughtfully.

"But that's just terrible! Besides, someone of her age can't get potent love potions. So whatever she has must be weak… and likely to wear off in a day or two at the most!" Hermione said.

"I think she thinks that by the time the potion wears off, she'll have made him like her back…" Ginny said, looking amused and anxious at the same time. "Utter stupidity, in my opinion. I mean, he sits at the Slytherin table! She can't just waltz over and pretend that it's perfectly normal for a Gryffindor to go over to the rival table."

Harry groaned mentally. _When the potion wears off, she was going to have a furious Slytherin on her hands…_

"Merlin, these girls are crazy," said Seamus in disgust.

"Do you think it'll work?" Neville asked nervously, "What if he finds out? I mean, he'll realize that he was drugged when the potion wears off! What if he goes to Professor _Snape_?"

The others immediately looked worried, except for Harry.

 _The Dark Lord under a love potion! Well, he sure as hell won't go to Snape – but he_ will _make Romilda pay for it…. Maybe I should stop him from drinking it…_ Harry debated with himself. Finally, he resolved to just keep an eye on Riddle and see what happens. Surely the Dark Lord would not miss it if his food was spiked.

.

* * *

The next morning, everyone in Gryffindor who knew about Romilda's plan hurried to the Great Hall. Even Harry, Ron and Hermione got there earlier than usual.

"What happened? Did she do it?" Hermione asked Parvati.

"No, he isn't here," Parvati replied, looking disappointed.

Harry's head snapped towards the Slytherin tables. Sure enough, Riddle was nowhere to be seen. Harry's gaze paused on a head of blond hair for a moment. Draco Malfoy looked back at him with a smirk, but also with… curiosity and disdain. Harry looked away after a short glare.

"At least he's safe from Romilda," spoke up Neville with a half-grin.

"For now," said Ron knowingly, "Romilda won't be daunted. She'll just try again tomorrow – he'll be here for sure."

 _Where did he go?_ Harry wondered. Then he shook his head. It wasn't his concern. Riddle could take care of himself.

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* * *

Harry plastered a cheerful grin on his face and waved to Ron and Hermione as they set off to Hogsmeade. But then Ron turned around and whispered to Harry, "Mate, why don't you use your cloak? You did it last time!"

Harry shook his head ruefully. He'd already thought of it, but decided that, not only was he breaking the rules for his own pleasure, but also using an advantage that other students without permission didn't have. "I can't. It's not fair, Ron. None of the other students who aren't going to Hogsmeade have this chance – I'd feel like I'm being selfish…"

"Oh Harry," Hermione broke in, "you're the only one who's not going in the whole of third year…" she trailed off looking sheepish.

"Thanks, Hermione." Harry said dryly.

"Sorry."

"Hey, it's really okay, Hermione. You two go, you're wasting time. Meanwhile, I can get started on my Transfiguration essay," Harry tried to pull out a carefree grin. By the brightening up of his friends' faces, he knew he had succeeded.

"We'll bring back something from Honeydukes, mate," Ron said. "Come on, Hermione. See you when we get back, Harry."

Harry watched their departing backs for a while, and then, as was his habit, made his way up to the DADA tower, past Professor McGonagall's office, and stopped in front of a large window that wasn't, for once, glass stained. There was nobody about. He pressed his palms against the glass and leaned forward on the wall. He could see the students in the distance, slowly laughing and chattering their way towards Hogsmeade. He wanted to visit the quaint little town, he really did, but with no permission and even McGonagall disagreeing, he knew there was no chance of enjoying himself there with his friends.

Even though he had, technically, been there once, he supposed he had been kind of… _distracted_ by McGonagall's revelation about his godfather. Well, distracted was one way of putting it. _Enraged_ would be a better word.

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 ** _Thank you for reading! Please review!_**


	6. Chapter 6 - Heart to Heart

**_Reviews make my day! I really like to find out what my wonderful readers think of my story._**

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* * *

Snape felt almost pleased. Finally, after an annoying week of irritating imbeciles attempting to brew substances he wouldn't even deign to call _liquids_ let alone _potions_ , the castle was mercifully empty. Snape too looked forward to Hogsmeade weekends in a way. Not that he set a foot outside Hogwarts, but he treasured the silence of the place.

This morning, he dragged himself from the gloom of the dungeons and went for a brisk walk around the castle for some fresh air. He strode to the DADA tower, remembering that he had a letter to deliver to Minerva McGonagall personally.

After practically flinging the letter at her – she had the gall to point out that he was taking points from Gryffindor unnecessarily! – he climbed the stairs slowly, intending to grab a quick bout of fresh air from the top of the tower. What he saw, however, stopped him short in his tracks.

The blasted Potter was pressing his face to the glass of a huge window, staring out silently. A short glance out from a nearby window told Snape that Potter was following the students going to Hogsmeade with his eyes. He wondered what Potter was doing in the school instead of joining his boisterous friends in going to Hogsmeade.

Potter sighed and brought Snape's attention to him. The boy looked disconsolate and lonely, and Snape suddenly saw the longing in those green eyes – Lily's eyes… The Potions Master came to the conclusion that Potter's relations didn't give him permission to go frolicking outside the school. But he couldn't very well go past Potter without inevitably speaking to him. And with the Dark Lord around, within the school itself, it was too dangerous. He turned away and returned to his dungeon rooms, inwardly cursing Harry Potter, the Dark Lord, and Albus Dumbledore in turns.

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* * *

Lord Voldemort – or Tom Riddle, as he was referred to these days – stood watching the last of the students disappear into Hogsmeade happily. However, Harry Potter was not among them. The icy blue eyes gleamed. This was the perfect chance to talk to Potter – he was alone, all alone…

A simple tracking charm led him to the DADA tower, to Harry who was still looking out of the window. He paused near the corner of the corridor, taking in the absolutely forlorn look on the Golden Boy's face.

He was not prepared for the flashbacks triggered by the sight.

When he was in the orphanage, he had often watched the other children playing and having fun. Some of them had had visitors – men who had picked them up and twirled them around, and women who brought them pies and cooed at them and stroked their hair. But not one of the visitors had ever been warm towards him. Some had tried, but had always backed away quite quickly at the look in his eyes. Of course, Mrs. Cole's malevolent stories had done nothing to encourage them either.

Understanding that Harry's thoughts and feelings were similar to his, at least at the moment, was foreign to him. He had shared nothing with anyone in his life. He always acted alone, and commanded others. He held power over those who surrounded him; he would have it no other way.

Now, Harry was making him feel emotions he held repulsive to say the least of it, and the experience unnerved him. He put it down as consequences of his youthful body.

When he had initially regained his body, it hadn't been exactly human. Ancient dark rituals had twisted his body into something terrifying. He had been reborn into a thin, long body with white hairless ice cold skin, long spidery hands, a bald head, crimson eyes, and slits as nostrils instead of a nose.

He may have been disappointed to lose his handsomeness, but this body was satisfactory in a way too. He was unhindered, and had the ability to intimidate his Death Eaters, and in some cases, right down petrify them with a mere glance.

However, his plans to attend Hogwarts as a student compelled him to transform his snake–like figure back into his teenage body. He was thoroughly pleased to find, later, that he could switch between his two bodies as he liked. His teenage self had been exceptionally good–looking with his neat dark hair, proud straight nose, high cheekbones, firm chin, slender, tall physique and perfect pale skin. His looks alone had many times persuaded people to do his bidding.

He shook himself out of his reverie when Harry pushed himself off the wall and turned…. and froze on seeing Riddle watching him.

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* * *

Harry held back a gasp, horrified that Riddle had been behind him and he had had no idea!

His hand instinctively flew to his wand. Riddle smirked and drawled, "Come now, Harry, you don't want to fight me, after all, we are classmates, aren't we? Have you already forgotten Dumbledore's words?"

At the mention of Dumbledore, Harry's hand stilled. Then slowly, slowly, reluctantly, it returned to his side. "What do you want, Riddle?" Harry asked in a toneless voice.

"Tom."

"What?"

"Call me Tom."

Harry stared at Voldemort incredulously. "Call you Tom? Why?"

Riddle shrugged gracefully. "I believe _friends_ " – he said the word like it was something vile – "use their first names when addressing each other. Close friends often adapt to using modified versions of their names to express their… ah… familiarity. However, I shall not pressure you to address me such, as I confess myself unwilling to called by such derogatory terms."

Harry just blinked. Then he broke out. "If the word ' _friends'_ is so insulting to you, why on earth would you want to be called by your first name? That would indicate that we _are_ _friends_."

"You are…unlike your peers. I have deemed you worthy of being allowed to address me thus." Riddle's eyes darkened to crimson. "You are…a mystery."

Harry threw him a scornful look. "So I'm a mystery, and you're a riddle." He smiled humorlessly. "Right on par with each other, aren't we?"

Riddle opened his mouth, but Harry barreled on. "Oh, and I'm so honored!" he drawled sarcastically. "I've been deemed worthy to address you by your first name! What an impressive thing!" He gave a mock bow. "My drooling gratitude, _my lord_!"

Riddle's diamond eyes turned to rubies.

"I am extending an olive branch, Harry. Your refusal could result in disastrous consequences…"

Harry scowled, not about to be intimidated by Riddle. Although…he contemplated the offer. He did not want to get any closer than he was to his parents' murderer. No, thank you.

…But had he to choose…between honouring those of the past…and saving those of the present…and future…

"All right. I accept." Harry paused just for a moment before adding, " _Tom_."

Riddle – Tom – allowed his lips to pull up on one side. "Wise decision, savior."

"Thanks." Harry flashed a sharp grin. "But…it _is_ a bit puzzling that you insisted on being called Tom."

"Do tell."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that you detested your name." Harry raised his chin defiantly as he stared back into Tom's glower.

"Only when people use it without my explicit permission."

"Your explicit…Merlin. It's just a name!" Harry said with an incredulous tone to his voice as his eyebrows shot up. The Dark Lord really had issues.

"Names are never _just_ anything, Harry." Tom answered. He gestured to Harry to follow him. Frowning slightly, Harry obeyed, pointedly falling into step with Tom. He wasn't going to be anyone's lapdog, least of all Lord Voldemort's.

The small tightening of Tom's jaw was all the response he got to his rebellious act.

"Names have power. Names can bestow a person with so much." Tom continued as they emerged into the sunshine.

"Names are also what you make of them." Harry countered. "Names can't change characters or personalities."

"Names carry immense supremacy."

"Names cannot divulge us; it is a person's actions that define them."

"Inadequate names can hinder even the greatest of men."

"Surely it cannot be that Tom Marvolo Riddle was conquered by his own name?" Harry asked with a sideways glance. "Is that why you created your anagram?"

Tom chose not to reply.

The two had considerably slowed down, and Harry, after casting a glance at Tom, realized that the Slytherin was inviting him to choose their destination. Making a split second decision, Harry somewhat subtly steered them over towards the lake.

"My name proved to be insufficient for my goals." Tom spoke again, successfully regaining Harry's attention. "My filthy muggle name would have brought forth many obstacles had I continued to use it."

 _Riddle_. 

_"_ _Surely you didn't think I was going to keep my filthy muggle father's name? No, I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards all over the world would one day fear to speak."_

Harry subtly rubbed at his stinging scar.

"I still am of the impression that one should conquer their name rather than have the name conquer them." Harry looked over the lake intently as they neared, pretending not to see Tom's penetrating crimson gaze locked onto his face.

"I fear you are woefully ignorant of reality, Harry Potter," Tom said after a very long pause. "The world is very different when one does not look at it through rose tinted glasses."

Harry frowned. "My glasses – oh…" he trailed away, an embarrassed pink flush crawling up his skin when he realized it was just a figure of speech.

One side of Tom's lips quirked up in an amused smirk.

They lapsed into silence after that, albeit not an uncomfortable one.

Harry glanced sideways at Tom. He was staring ahead, his face relaxed. He didn't know much about Voldemort, he realized to his chagrin. The first time they had met he had been just a baby. The next, in the Forbidden Forest, it had only been a minute or two. In front of the Mirror of Erised, it had been mainly Quirrel, and Voldemort had not been at his best. Granted, if Voldemort _had_ been at his best, there would be no more Harry Potter. Second year, in the Chamber of Secrets, it had been Voldemort's younger self – a memory of him.

Suddenly, unbidden, Dumbledore's words sprang into the front of Harry's mind. " _I want you to be very careful around him, but at the same time, I'd like you to….get to know him… I know this must be a lot to ask of you, considering who he is, Harry, but it is vital that we keep up with Tom's steps, his plans. Befriend him, if you can, and see if you can pick up any hint of what he's up to."_

Harry sighed internally. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days. Well, Dumbledore wanted him to be friends with Tom, and now Tom himself offered to be friends. Or rather proclaimed to be friends.

Why was it that no one ever took _his_ choice into consideration?

"Harry."

Harry jerked his head up. "Huh?"

"You were deep in thought," Tom looked at him speculatively, "Care to share?"

Harry glanced at him. "No" he said automatically before catching himself. "I meant, I'm a little confused at the moment, to be frank." _Barriers lowered. Now to see if Tom would take advantage or exercise honesty._

Tom flashed a quick smile before his features settled into neutrality. "I shall assume that your confusion stems from your certainty – or lack of, thereof – of my identity?" Harry gave a short nod. "I am Lord Voldemort."

"I was hoping for something a little more illuminating than that." Harry said drily.

"I'd like to hear your conclusions."

Harry took a deep breath and fisted his fingers around the wand in his pocket. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he said, throwing another glance at Tom, "I think…you've changed."

"Changed?" Tom repeated, his eyes boring into him with intensity.

"My deduction is correct, isn't it?" Harry questioned, meeting the stare fearlessly.

"Do elaborate."

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Harry turned to look straight at Tom.

"The most obvious clue would be the fact that, although we are alone here, and you could probably take me out with a snap of your fingers …you've made no move."

"I could be waiting for the opportune moment." Tom took a measured step forwards, his eyes trained on Harry's still form.

Harry did not show any outward reaction.

"I don't think so." He cast a look about them. The area was deserted. "You don't strike me as patient person, especially after meeting you in my first year."

 _"_ _Tell me…Harry…would you like to see your mother and father again? Together…we can bring them back.… Just give me the stone!"_

"Which brings me to my second point. Your aura is different. In first year…it was…wild..." _Haywire. Dangerous. Lashing out like a provoked beast._ "But now…it's…" _Calm. Controlled._ "…Composed."

"Go on…" Tom purred, his dark ruby eyes perusing Harry with unbridled interest, as if he wanted to take his body apart to uncover his intriguing core.

Swallowing, Harry continued. "You go by the name Tom Riddle here at Hogwarts. If you truly detest your name as much as you claim, it was the splendid opportunity to take a new name that you approve of. It would have been only too easy."

He paused.

Tom Riddle.

Riddle was obviously not a pureblood name. Lord Voldemort, pureblood supremacist, taking on a name that made it _so_ obvious he was anything but a pureblood…He had _some_ plan, some intricately woven _plot_ …

That Harry had no idea of.

He prevented himself from growling out loud in frustration. He would _not_ allow himself to be a sitting duck.

"So, Mr. Tom Riddle, how would you grade my psychoanalysis?" He kept his voice casual, not hinting at anything he had come up with in the span of seconds he had paused.

Crimson eyes assessed him coolly before Tom delivered his reply. "I would say you earned yourself an Exceeds Expectations, Mr. Harry Potter."

Harry allowed a tiny laugh to escape. _I suppose I shall try to earn an Outstanding in psychoanalyzing him._

They sank into nonrestrictive silence again. Harry feasted his eyes on the mysterious Black Lake, while Tom stood at his shoulder, looking in the opposite direction up at the Hogwarts castle.

Again, the silence did not last long.

Harry instinctively noted a change in the magical atmosphere and tensed. His fingers curled more tightly around his wand in his pocket.

.

Tom cleared his throat quietly.

"Might I suggest something to put both of us at ease?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "And would this be beneficial to me?"

"Oh, no doubt, it will." A flash of perfect even white teeth.

Harry was suddenly reminded of the version of the fake–friendly wolf Little Red Riding Hood met in the forest.

"Let's hear it, then…"

.

"A clean start."

Harry's mind went blank.

 _Could he actually do it? Could he hang on? Would he go through with this?_

Wipe Lord Voldemort's criminal slate clean…open up to Tom Riddle?

The future of the wizarding world, peace, and his friends' safety on one side.

His sanity, his life and his morals on the other.

Why was it always him left cornered? For this was not a choice, not really.

.

 _Breathe_. _Live_.

.

 _Protect_. _Fulfill_.

.

"Yes…"

.

Harry vocalized his decision.

The predator bared his teeth in a parody of a smile.

Tom turned completely away from him, causing Harry to stare after him in bewilderment. Then he turned back, all traces of Lord Voldemort gone, looking like nothing more than an ordinary student.

"Hello." The lava was gone.

"My name is Tom Riddle." The ice was in its place.

Harry took the devil's hand and shook it.

" _Harry Potter_." Their hands did not let go. "A pleasure to meet you."

.

Seconds ticked by as birds flew above them and a breeze blew past them…yet neither let go.

Halted in a world of their own, their eyes remained locked on each other's forms.

Everything was inanimate for a moment, even themselves.

Then –

Their hands unclasped.

"There. That wasn't so hard now, was it?" Tom's deep velvety voice broke the silence.

"Never said it would be, did I?" Harry returned, displaying a quick grin, and taking a tiny casual step away. "Also, as a matter of fact, I didn't expect you to take the whole 'starting over' part _literally_."

Tom offered him a shark – like smile. "I believe what follows should be details."

Harry looked at him blankly.

"Tell me about yourself…" Tom prompted him.

Harry smiled to himself. Tom wouldn't play him that easily. He wasn't that thick as to completely play right into his hands.

Cracking another grin, Harry replied, "What, is this something pertaining to 'Know thy enemy' or something?"

Tom's eyes practically gleamed. "Something like that, yes. But, I fail to see how knowing your favorite color can help me to kill you."

"You want to know my favorite _color_?" Harry allowed a little skepticism leak into his voice.

"Among other things. Well, if there's anything else you'd rather talk about… What are your interests?"

Harry didn't let his guard down.

 _I want you to be very careful around him, but at the same time, I'd like you to….get to know him…_

"Um…" he racked his brains for something he could talk about with Tom. "I guess… well, I like Quidditch… but you probably don't want to talk about that –"

"I used to dismiss it as a frivolous foolish sport during my days at Hogwarts. Enlighten me, Harry. Sadly, Quidditch is one of the few areas I have little knowledge of."

Harry gaped at Tom. "Quidditch… a _foolish_ sport? It's the greatest sport in the entire wizarding world!"

"Ah, I take it you are quite a passionate fan of the sport. You play, of course." Tom said, seating himself gracefully on the grassy bank. Harry followed suit.

"Yeah, I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I'm the seeker." _Yeah, you'd know that seeing as you tried to knock me off my broom back in first year_. Tom's eyes bore into him as if he knew what Harry was thinking. "Uh, you do know the positions of the game, right?"

Tom merely flashed another grin. "I do, but there is nothing wrong in refreshing my memory. Please continue."

So seated on the bank of the lake, Harry Potter explained the game of Quidditch to the Dark Lord Voldemort.

.

"Each team has seven members, not counting the substitutes. Three chasers, two beaters, one Keeper, and the Seeker– that's me for the Gryffindor team. Draco Malfoy is the Seeker for Slytherin, Cedric Diggory for Hufflepuff, and Cho Chang for Ravenclaw."

Tom, seemingly satisfied, drank it all in.

"In our team – Gryffindor – The three chasers are Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell. They're really good players, especially Katie Bell. Then the two Beaters are Fred and George Weasley, the twins. We've got Oliver Wood as the captain, he's also the Keeper. He's great; he loves Quidditch, and he's working hard to make us win the Quidditch Cup this year."

"Quidditch Cup?"

"Yes, you see, each year, we have six matches. We need to get into the finals, and so far, we've not made much headway…"

"I take it that you lost a match." Tom didn't even look properly disappointed.

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "and it was my fault."

"How so?"

"Uh… did you know that there were Dementors on the edges of the school promises until about a few weeks ago?"

"I understand that they were stationed to catch an escaped prisoner from Azkaban."

"That's right. So anyway, during the match, I got trapped between several dementors when I was a long way from the ground. I don't remember much… only a chilling gloom, and then a dementor pressed close to me, I – well, I fell off my broom. At breakneck speed. Woke up in the Hospital Wing a few hours later."

Tom's eyebrows rose. "I suppose you had another stroke of incomprehensible luck to survive?"

Harry smiled coolly. "Dumbledore saved me; he slowed my fall."

"Of course he did," Tom responded dryly, "Dumbledore saves everyone… except the ones he's supposed to protect."

Harry frowned. "Tom. Dumbledore is a really good person – you don't realize that. He cares about everyone –"

"I would appreciate if you dropped the subject."

Harry groaned to himself, but didn't push Tom. They were still on shaky ground, and he didn't want to return to square one.

"Uh, all right. So what do _you_ want to talk about?"

It was Tom's turn to look expressionless. "Me?"

"Yes, you've got to have something you're interested in. Aside from killing and torturing people and trying to take over the world?" Harry said it with a serious face, but his lips twitched at the corners.

"I don't kill and torture people nowadays, although I'm still planning to take over the wizarding world."

There was a short pause. Then Harry laughed. "I thought you didn't have a sense of humour!"

"I can be anything when I want to."

"You're very… you ever heard of the word 'modest'?"

Smirking, Tom leaned back on his elbows, possibly thinking about what he could say to Harry. Then he turned his head to see Harry watching him, waiting.

"Do you know why I chose to return as a _third_ year student?" he asked. Harry shrugged. "It was because I found out that _you_ were in third year."

Harry appraised Tom with a critical eye. "You have to admit it, you can pass for a seventeen-year-old. You actually don't look young enough to be thirteen."

"It doesn't matter." Tom waved a hand dismissively. "People have always seen only what they want to see."

"Then why Slytherin?" Harry asked.

It was Tom's turn to shrug. "I was in Slytherin when I used to come to Hogwarts."

Harry shifted so that he was facing Tom fully. "Really?" he asked, "Was Hogwarts different to what it is now?"

Tom smiled – more of a slight curve of lips. "Some of it. The castle itself has changed little, but I find that the teachers are all different."

"Is it true that Dumbledore was the Transfiguration professor? And the Headmaster was someone called Dippet?"

"Correct." Tom nodded lazily. "The Potions master was a person called Horace Slughorn. He was head of Slytherin too."

"Was he better than Snape?" Harry asked, then paused. "Of course, everyone's better than Snape. Even you, and that's saying something."

Coming up with no more Hogwarts – related topics he could bring up, Harry changed the subject.

"Why didn't you go to Hogsmeade today? Had you no interest in the outing…or did you simply stay back to catch me alone?"

"What is the reason _you_ didn't go, Harry?"

Harry was taken aback. _What am I going to say? That my uncle hates me for existing, even more so after I blew up my aunt who was insulting my parents, so I left home before I could get the permission slip filled?_ "Um, I couldn't get permission from my relatives…?"

Tom's gaze sharpened when Harry involuntarily stiffened. In a light voice, he commented, "I am unsure whether that was a question or an answer."

Harry flushed, but did not pursue the topic. Anymore, and the Dark Lord – ever so sharp with words – would uncover one of his many secrets. Instead, he turned his attention to the scenery before him. The sun rose, and the smooth surface of the lake held millions of tiny sparkles.

Inwardly, he berated himself for getting into such deep conversation with Tom. Dumbledore might have told him to get information, but so far, he hadn't gained anything.

He withheld a sigh. Any witness from afar would only see them as a duo of friends basking in the sun by the lake. Only those who knew who Tom truly was would possibly realize what this was; a pretence…a game with both standing on a fine knife's edge with the risk of war hovering around for if either of them tripped.

For the umpteenth time, Tom seemed to know what Harry was thinking.

He smiled chillingly. " ** _This, Harry, is just the beginning._** "

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 _ **Another chapter done! Leave reviews!**_

 _ **Tom probably knows all about quidditch, but he let Harry explain it to him because he wanted to keep their conversation flowing.**_


	7. Chapter 7 - Unjust Justice

_**Hello! Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy it! Leave reviews!**_

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* * *

Since Harry had tossed and turned in bed all night long, he had trouble waking up the following day. Ron too had overslept, and if it weren't for Neville waking them both up, they'd have to miss breakfast. Harry said so to Ron as they sprinted to the Great Hall.

"Miss breakfast? Not likely!" panted Ron. They finally reached their destination and scrambled to the Gryffindor table to grab something before it all disappeared.

As it turned out, they were not that late – everyone was only half-way through their own breakfasts. Hermione was not there. According to Lavender, Ginny had forgotten something, and Hermione had accompanied her back to her dormitory.

At one point during which Ron was shoveling pancakes in his mouth, and Harry was making his way through a sandwich, Parvati Patil rushed over and plonked herself down next to Lavender who was seated opposite Harry and Ron.

"She's done it!" Parvati burst into giggles as soon as the words were out.

"Who's 'un what?" Ron asked around his mouthful.

Parvati spared him a brief look of disgust before saying excitedly, "The love potion! Romilda's slipped it to Tom Riddle! What do you think will happen? She told me right now outside in the corridor! Do you think he'll really fall in love with her? It's so exciting, isn't it!"

.

Harry's intestines twisted, making him want to throw up everything he had just eaten. The bite of sandwich in his mouth turned into a stone, and he swallowed with difficulty, almost feeling the stone rolling down to his stomach and being deposited with a dull thump.

How on earth could he have forgotten Romilda's nefarious plans?

"Romilda passed Tom the love potion?" he asked, his voice sounding strangely high even to himself.

"Oh! Here she is, we can ask her ourselves! Romilda! Over here!" Lavender waved her hand in the air.

A moment later, Romilda, looking very pleased with herself, walked down the table and squeezed herself between Parvati and Lavender.

"So you actually did it?" Lavender asked with admiration and a little bit of envy.

Romilda nodded and smiled, a satisfied expression on her face. "Yes, he'll be here soon. In fact, I just saw him at the end of the corridor." She smoothed down her skirt in anticipation.

"What's the potion you used?" Harry asked skeptically, hoping it was something weak that wouldn't make Tom burst into love ballads every time she came close.

Romilda screwed up her face. "It's a very weak version of Amortentia. I chose a weak one because it's got less taste, but the effects don't last long, or so the shopkeeper told me. She said I should give him the potion at least every five hours, or it will wear off soon…"

"But Amortentia is the strongest love potion ever brewed!" said Harry desperately. _Couldn't they see what they had done?_

"What part of _weakest version_ didn't you understand?" Romilda said, flipping her black curls over her shoulder.

"What did you add it to? The potion?" Harry asked, discreetly eyeing Tom's empty place with a plate of food and a cup of pumpkin juice set out.

"His juice. He won't notice, don't worry," said Romilda, fixing her eyes on Tom's cup.

Harry vaguely heard a buzzing noise in his ears, and Lavender saying something about Tom's hair, and Ron's scornful grunt, but he paid attention to none of those. In his mind, a memory emerged to the top… a memory of a Potions class during the beginning of his third year.

.

 _"_ _Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker. It has a distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from it in characteristic spirals."_

 _"_ _Great, I can slip some into Hannah's pumpkin juice," said Zacharius Smith, invoking snickers from the rest of the class._

 _"_ _Doing so will lead you straight to a cell in Azkaban, Mr. Smith, therefore, I suggest you think twice before taking such a risk merely to get a girl look at you," Snape cut in disdainfully. At everyone's questioning looks, he elaborated. "Amortentia contains ashwinder eggs, which reacts with an ingredient in pumpkin juice, turning it into a potent poison. So unless you wish to kill your beloved, you would not mix Amortentia with pumpkin juice. Five points from Hufflepuff for sheer stupidity."_

.

Harry hissed in horror. Ron, Lavender, Parvati, and Romilda turned to him in surprise.

"What is it, mate?" Ron asked, setting his fork down and eyeing Harry quizzically.

"You idiot, Romilda! Are you trying to poison him?" Harry choked out. "You need to get rid of that juice! Now! Quick!"

"What are you talking about, mate?" Ron asked, bemused. "It's a love potion, not poison."

Harry swiveled around to see the cup sitting there innocently. "Amortentia and pumpkin juice together is poisonous! Romilda, _hurry up_! He'll be here any minute!"

Everyone seemed to be struck with surprise. Then Parvati squeaked out, "Are you sure, Harry?"

"Yes! Now will you please hurry up! Get rid of it before someone drinks it!"

"Too late, mate," Ron breathed out in horror. "He's already here."

Sure enough, Tom was walking in, calm and cool, towards his place at the Slytherin table.

"No!" whispered Harry. He leapt out of his place, and dashed towards the Slytherin table, intent on getting there before Tom. To his frustration, he was blocked by a couple of Ravenclaw boys. Ignoring Cedric Diggory calling out to him, "Hey, Potter, what's the rush?" Harry kept weaving through the students. Unfortunately, Tom was much closer to the cup than him. Desperately, he called out. "Tom! Tom, wait!"

Miraculously, Tom heard him, even over the babble from the tables, for he stopped right in front of the cup and turned to face Harry. His expression was pleasantly surprised. "Why, Harry! I didn't expect you to be on talking terms with me so soon."

Harry gritted his teeth, his gaze wandering to the cup full of pumpkin juice.

"Harry?" Harry's head jerked up, away from the cup, towards Tom's politely inquiring face.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to speak in a normal voice.

"Was there something you wanted?" Tom's gaze was speculative now. Harry felt like every short breath he took, every tiny bead of sweat at his temple, every twitch of his fingers was examined.

"Uh… I just…" he scoured his brain for some plausible excuse, "I just wanted to… uh… talk to you?"

Tom smiled – an amused but devious smile. "Of course, why don't we sit down?"He gestured towards the table. Harry kept shooting glances at the cup. By now many of the Slytherins nearby were regarding him with open hostility. Harry wasn't surprised. It was almost unheard of for someone of another house, especially a Gryffindor, to approach the Slytherin table.

Harry was vaguely aware that his fellow Gryffindors were following his every movement curiously with their eyes. His mouth was dry, yet he kept looking at the juice, wondering how to remove it without anyone becoming suspicious. Love potions were illegal at Hogwarts though some students used them occasionally. But if he was caught, it would result in utter humiliation and a lot of points being deducted from Gryffindor, not saying anything about the rumors that would spread like wildfire.

He snapped out of his abstraction to see Tom reaching for the cup and bringing it to his lips. Acting instinctively, he grabbed the cup right out of Tom's fingers with a yell of "Don't drink that!"

Tom looked at Harry oddly, then turned his gaze towards the cup still full of pumpkin juice which Harry was holding at arm's length. Realization dawned on him quicker then Harry could blink, and he stretched his hand towards the cup. "Give it to me, Harry," he said in a warning voice.

"What? Why?" Harry was beginning to feel giddy. By now, almost all the Slytherins were staring at him and the murmurs were turning into a buzz. The Gryffindor table was silent, with everyone looking at him with perplexed faces. The other two tables hadn't noticed much, thankfully.

"Potter, _what are you doing_?" hissed a voice behind him, and he turned abruptly – still holding the cup – to face a pair of glittering black eyes and a hooked nose in a sallow face.

"Er…" he said while Professor Snape loomed up over him.

Snape looked from him to the cup to Tom still standing there, to the now deathly quiet Slytherins watching the scene with interest.

He opened his mouth and Harry braced himself.

"All Slytherins finish your breakfasts and leave," he ordered, and the students reluctantly turned back to their plates. Then Snape turned to Harry and Tom. "May I have an explanation of what is happening here, Mr. Potter?"

Harry bit his lip, glancing at Tom, who seemed to be watching them lazily, but sharply. _No help there, then_. Harry brought the cup closer to him and discreetly peered into its depths. It looked perfectly ordinary, a somewhat thick orange beverage, with nothing to show it had been tampered with. He turned back to Snape and drew a breath in, but Snape cut him off.

"Mr. Potter, what is in that cup –" Harry started to answer, but Snape continued, "besides the pumpkin juice?"

Harry shifted warily. He was trapped. He couldn't pretend that the juice was fine, nor could he blatantly lie to his professor. He couldn't tell the truth either, for it would end very badly for either him or Romilda Vane – though by this time he was feeling ready strangle her himself with his bare hands – but either way, he felt sure that the Gryffindor House would lose points that morning. He stayed silent, looking around anxiously.

"Give me the cup." Snape looked murderous, and Harry unconsciously tightened his fingers around the cup. "Give me the cup, Mr. Potter!" Snape repeated. Harry thought he had a worried look in his eyes, but he could hardly say anything, seeing that the Dark Lord was observing them both.

Reluctantly, Harry passed it over. Professor Snape swirled the contents a little, then looked up, his eyes blazing. "Amortentia!" he growled. "How dare you, Potter!"

Harry almost flinched from the pure venom in Snape's eyes. He unconsciously took a step backwards. But at the same time, he was impressed that the potions master had identified the potion so quickly. Until he realized what Snape was implying.

" _What?_ " he nearly shrieked. "I did _not_ put the stupid potion in his cup! Why would I?!"

A polite cough came from behind him. Harry refused to turn around, instead opting to glare at Snape. "I really didn't, sir, believe me-"

"Are you aware of the rules, Mr. Potter? Of course, on second thoughts, you regard yourself being above than the rules, don't you? Were you aware of the consequences that would have followed, had you succeeded with in this foolhardy plan?"

Harry's jaw had dropped. "Sir, I honestly _did not do this_ –"

"One hundred points from Gryffindor! I will leave you to tell your classmates how exactly I was driven to deduct points. Now leave for your classes." Snape turned to Tom. "I will dispose of this. You did not drink any of it, I presume … Mr. Riddle?"

Harry didn't stick around to listen to Tom's reply; instead he slipped past Snape and made a beeline for the doors where he spotted a head of curly black hair. She wasn't hard to find – she was surrounded by Lavender, Parvati, Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus. Her face was rather pale and scared-looking.

Seething, Harry burst into the middle of the small circle. Everyone's eyes snapped to him, but he only saw Romilda.

"I hope you're happy," he started angrily. "He didn't drink it after all. Imagine the consequences if he had! And now, thanks to your arrogance, we lost a hundred points! Snape was furious!" Beside him, Ron gave a low whistle, but he was still raging to pay attention. "I was humiliated in front of the entire Slytherin table! How could you have been so stupid?!"

"I'm really sorry, I didn't know…"

"Didn't _know_ indeed. You might have _killed_ him! Be thankful that he didn't seem inclined to pursue the matter. And worst of all, everyone's going to think that _I_ put the potion into his goblet! So please, for the sake of Gryffindor, steer clear of love potions if you don't even know how they work! The next time you try something like that, I'll report you to McGonagall myself!"

"Mate, hey, calm down…" Ron steered Harry away, followed by Fred and George.

Harry had never yelled at anybody like that, but he had been so _humiliated_ in front of his enemies. Slowly, his fury ebbed away. The twins kept up a steady stream of encouragement, badmouthing Romilda Vane, and Ron joined in.

Finally, Harry smiled and stopped them. "Thanks, guys, I really appreciate what you're doing."

All three redheads responded with grins.

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* * *

By that afternoon, all the Gryffindors had heard about Romilda's stupidity, and more than one lion had reprimanded her, especially when they heard that Harry had had to face the wrath of the Potions Master in her place. So Romilda was having a hard time in the common room too.

"She won't forget this in a hurry," Hermione laughed as the three traipsed down to the Potions classroom. "Do you remember Lee Jordan's face when he found out we'd lost a hundred points? I thought Romilda was going to burst into tears."

"No less than what she deserved," muttered Ron. "A hundred points! Gryffindor won't have a chance to win the House Cup if this goes on."

"Come on, Ron," Harry interrupted, "how many points have been deducted from Gryffindor because of the three of _us_ since first year?"

"Yeah, but we always get them back by doing some heroic deed."

Laughing at Ron's matter–of–fact voice, they entered the classroom and sat down. A minute later, Snape strode in, his robes billowing behind him.

"Quiet!" he snapped, and immediately everybody shut their mouths. He then waved his wand at the blackboard, and a list of ingredients appeared. "Before you start, these ingredients take time to obtain, therefore do not let me catch you wasting them. Do I make myself clear?" Poor Neville hunched in on himself, earning quite a few snickers from the snakes.

Snape glided over to Harry's table. "Following the… incident at breakfast today, I have decided to teach you this potion, even if it is advanced, to avoid further predicaments." He smirked coldly at Harry, and all the Slytherins started jeering. Harry flushed and clenched his hands. "Hence, we will be working on the love potion _antidote_."

Snape returned to his place at the front of the class. "Because this is an advanced potion, today I will be putting you into pairs." Harry and Ron exchanged dismayed glances. "Now, Miss Abbot and Miss Bones…. Mr. Boot and Mr. Corner…Miss Bulstrode and Mr. Zabini…. Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom… Mr. Weasley and Mr. Thomas….."

Harry looked despondently at his friends as they were paired up with other people. Neville, however, looked delighted with the arrangement, because Hermione was good at Potions, and he could use her help, especially today.

"….. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott….. Mr. Potter….." Harry looked up while Snape looked intently at him. "You will be paired with…. Mr. Riddle."

Harry would have cried out in horror had his mouth lacked control. _Work with Tom? Also known as the genius? He'd embarrass himself for sure._

"But…"he began frantically. Professor Snape just ignored him and glanced around the class. "Ingredients are in the cupboard as well. Begin. And I do not want to see any of you fighting." He glared at Harry.

Harry groaned inwardly. This was planned! As he observed the rest of the students, he realized that he was the only person who had been paired with a student from another house.

"Great. Just brilliant."

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 _ **The chapter is a little short, but I hope you liked it. Please leave reviews.**_


	8. Chapter 8 - Classroom Conversation

_**Hello, readers! Here's another chapter, please review after reading!**_

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There was no other option besides obeying Snape. Fuming inside, he gathered up his belongings and dragged himself to Tom's desk. Tom was watching him with a rather predatory smile.

"Hello again." Tom gave a charming smile which Harry met with a flat look. He dumped his books on the desk, and stared at Tom.

Tom smiled again – this time as though he couldn't contain his amusement. "Careful, Harry. The potions classroom is not an ideal place to let your magic get out of control."

Harry winced, realizing his magic was indeed unsettled. For some reason, Tom was much more attuned to Harry's magic than anyone else, and vice–versa. He reined it in slowly.

"Sorry." It had been that way since the armotentia incident at breakfast.

"You seem a little upset. Are you not pleased to be working with me?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That sort of implies that it's an honor to get to partner with you, doesn't it?"

"And is it not?"

Harry sighed. "You're so full of yourself. Is that something that comes in the job description of being a Dark Lord?"

"Indeed. Right alongside an insatiable blood thirst and a demand for respect."

A laugh broke out of a surprised Harry. "Huh. You're bearable, I suppose. Now, who's going to get the ingredients?"

Harry was manipulated into fetching the ingredients. _No surprise._

Well, he could give back as well as he got.

Harry returned with the ingredients and a glint in his eye. Tom must have noticed, and correctly guessed Harry's thoughts, for he said, "Harry, if you attempt to ruin this potion in any way, there will be consequences."

Harry widened his eyes behind his glasses, looking as innocent as could be. "Why would I ever do that?! And to such a prodigy like you too!" Tom looked entirely unconvinced. "But just so you know," Harry continued, this time with a faint smirk of his own "I'm terrible at potions. You couldn't have gotten a worse partner. So if you want to change, no problem –"

"Yes, I see no problem. But don't worry, today's your lucky day. I happen to be excellent at potions."

 _Yeah, no surprise there, you're brilliant at everything…_

"You also happen to be excellent in advertising your talents," Harry observed. "Again, a Dark Lord requirement, I guess."

Tom did not dignify that with a reply. He merely began instructing Harry.

Some time later, when Harry was snapping the Wiggentree twigs, Tom stirred the potion carefully while keeping an eye on both the cauldron and Harry.

"That was quite the performance today at breakfast," Tom unexpectedly said to Harry.

Harry jerked – both startled and embarrassed – and the twig he was holding flew out of his hand and knocked into a nearby student. "Sorry," he mouthed, summoning it back to him. Then he turned to Tom with a hint of pink colouring his cheeks. "I thought you wanted to get a good grade on this potion. What's the point of distracting me so that I'll mix in something wrong and probably blow up the dungeons?"

"Promising, but you're evading the subject. I was asking about the incident in the Great Hall this morning."

"Well, what about it? Want to humiliate me some more?"

Any humor on Tom's face completely vanished. He was serious. "Did you really think that Lord Voldemort had been tricked? I knew very well that my drink had been tampered with. What I would like to know is how you came to know about it."

Harry gaped at the Dark Lord. "Wait… what? You– you _knew_? But you were going to _drink_ it!"

"My dear Harry, do you not realize the difference between _actually_ drinking something and _pretending_ to drink it? I was only making it seem as if I _was_ drinking. My aim was to try to discern who it was that dared to attempt to drug Lord Voldemort. But you burst in – clearly you knew what had happened even before I'd touched the cup. That would indicate that you were aware of the plan before it was executed."

"I….er…." Harry glanced at the Wiggentree twigs as if they could answer Tom in his stead. He couldn't let Tom know it was Romilda – she'd be found murdered the very next day. "…I happened to…. happened to guess?"

"It seemed to me that you yourself don't know how you came by the information. Do not lie to me…"

"I'm not!"

"If you do not answer me…"

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Or shall I assume that Snape was correct in his assumption that you were the one who attempted to…. ah, let us say, _capture my heart_?"

Harry flushed more. "Shut up! It wasn't me, it was–…."

"Yes?"

Making a noise of frustration, Harry whirled on Tom. "Promise me you won't harm her."

"I give you my word."

"All right, I'm only telling you because you'll find out sooner or later," he sighed, "It was Romilda Vane. Gryffindor, third year."

"Which one is it?" Tom asked, nodding towards the rest of the students all diligently working on their potions.

"The tanned girl with the black curly hair, over there behind the smoking cauldron."

Harry couldn't feel guilty. Tom would have found her eventually. Romilda had brought whatever retribution Tom shed on herself. He only spared someone else the interrogation Tom was sure to carry out.

Tom duly noted her down, and then turned his attention back to Harry. "Thank you. I must say you were most cooperative. Now," he peered into the cauldron which currently held an orange potion, "we are at the last stage of the potion. We must allow it to simmer until it turns a pink color. But do tell me, Harry, why did you tell me you were incompetent at Potions?"

Harry looked into the cauldron doubtfully. "Uh, I've never managed to make a correct potion since First Year. I'm actually surprised this one didn't blow up in our faces yet."

Tom leaned against the desk looking thoughtful. "Potion making is an art by itself. The brewer has to have not only knowledge and talent, but patience and good senses. Every potion requires careful measuring and brewing, all ingredients require precise cutting, grinding, soaking, you name it, and both these should be handled carefully to ensure a safe potion."

Behind them, Neville's cauldron emitted a loud pop sound. Around him, everyone burst into laughter. But Harry didn't hear, he was too busy paying attention to Tom. "Wow…" he managed after a few seconds of gazing. That actually explained why he was lousy at potions.

"Watch the potion. I'm going to put the castor oil back into the cupboard. It shouldn't be left out in the open for too long." Tom slipped to the back of the class leaving Harry with the near–complete potion.

.

"Potter!" Snape's irritated voice cut into his thoughts. "What are you doing without taking down notes? Assuming you did it correctly, of course, which is highly unlikely since you have never handed in a proper potion these three years I've wasted teaching you." His sneer turned positively nasty. "This potion could prove useful to you, Potter, considering you have fallen into the habit of slipping love potions to people in an effort to grab attention."

Harry was ready to burst with fury when another body brushed against his. Tom stepped up next to him, his eyes flashing.

"Harry was _not_ responsible for that foolish trick which you accused him of. Also, it would be _wise_ to have your facts straight before you accuse a person of wrongdoing," he said in an icy voice. A shiver ran down Harry's spine. It was moments like these that he wondered how he could see Lord Voldemort as a normal human being.

Snape blinked, his sneer replaced by pure shock. Fortunately, the bell rang just then.

"Goodbye for now, Harry. You'll be late for your next class," Tom said, still not taking his eyes off the astonished Potions master. Harry didn't waste time in getting together his things and fleeing the class. The shock of Voldemort defending him was too much for him.

.

* * *

When the class was empty, Tom shut and latched the door using wandless magic. "And now, my dear Severus, it is time you and I had a talk."

.

* * *

 _ **Don't forget to leave reviews! This chapter is bit short, but don't worry, longer chapters coming up!**_


	9. Chapter 9 - An Animagus's Adventures

_**I hope you like the story so far!**_

 _._

* * *

A lone bead of sweat formed on the nape of Severus Snape. Being in the presence of the Dark Lord as the sole focus of his attention after twelve years shook him to the core. Yet he kept his face impassive, his hands clasped behind his back, head lowered, knees on the cold stone floor, silent.

"Twelve years it's been, Severus," Voldemort began, "yet your head bows before me as it did all those years past." He approached Snape. "I wonder… is it out of your _worship_ for me….or your _fear_ ….or your _revulsion_?"

"My lord…"

"Rise."

Snape rose to his feet slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

"Tell me, Severus. You shudder in my presence, I am of the conclusion that it is out of horror. Come… show me. Show me the proof that you are still one of my loyal servants…. Severus…"

Then before Professor Snape's very eyes, his handsome features morphed into those of the devil… white skin, spindly hands and glowing crimson eyes. Snape had to admit that the aura of the dark magic made his fingers tremble. Yet he tried not to show his fear.

He slowly rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, baring his forearm. There, starkly contrasting with his pale unblemished skin was a black shape.

.

Voldemort traced the mark's outline with the tip of his yew wand lightly. Snape held still.

"Enlighten me, Severus. What do you feel when you see this mark? Does it make you proud or ashamed?"

"My lord, my loyalty has always been with you…"

In a fast movement, the dark wizard was behind the potions master. "Is that so? Yet, twelve years ago, when I was… incapacitated… you did not try to find me… you remained here, as Dumbledore's pet spy. Even now, when I have risen again, you do not respond to me with the same reverence you held for me then, Severus…"

A silence pervaded the classroom, broken only by the soft _swish-swish_ of Voldemort's robes as he circled Snape. His pale thin hands caressed his wand. "Answer me… who are you truly loyal to, Severus? Being an accomplished Occlumens you can hide many things from me. Is your disloyalty to me one of the secrets you hold? I sense…. You are no longer a faithful Death Eater. Lord Voldemort does not take betrayal lightly."

"My lord, my lord, I am loyal to you… I believed you were gone… I remained at Hogwarts out of fear for my life…"

"Such _lies_ , Severus!"

"My lord…"

" _Crucio!_ "

Snape dropped to the floor, writhing in pain, letting out stifled whimpers. It was a full ten or fifteen minutes before the Dark Lord stopped the torture. "That was your punishment for daring to lie to me." He observed the other who was by now attempting to ease himself off the ground. "I feel that my Death Eaters have lost faith in me. You are such an example. On that fateful night, when all thought I had been vanquished, I _survived_!" His voice dropped chillingly. "Do you think me _weak_ since the rumors say I was thwarted by a mere _infant_?" He circled the trembling professor again. "Years ago, I achieved feats that even the strongest wizards deemed _impossible_. Do not even entertain the notion for a single moment that my younger appearance means my power or patience has dwindled!"

Snape kept his head down knowing that it would probably stay on his neck for longer that way.

"I find that I am feeling merciful today, Severus," Voldemort continued after a short pause. "But do not test my ire again… the consequences will not be pleasant."

And with that ominous warning, Lord Voldemort changed back into Tom Riddle and swept out, leaving one confused, alarmed Potions master behind.

.

* * *

After escaping the potions classroom – suspecting that Professor Snape was in for a nasty time – Harry caught up with his friends. "Hey," he panted, falling into step with Ron and Hermione.

"Hey Harry. I say, that was horrible of Snape! The greasy git! I bet he didn't even check what happened, just started hurling abuse at you," Ron started ranting.

Harry looked between his friends, at Ron's irate face and Hermione's worried one, instantly understanding that Ron had filled her in on the incident at breakfast.

"It's alright, he's always badmouthing me, nothing new. At least I'll get a good grade for today's potion."

"Oh yeah, I noticed you were with that Slytherin. How awkward was it? I bet you were itching to hex him!"

"Actually, Ron, you don't want to know," Harry muttered, "The only good thing is that he's great at potions."

"That's lucky, Harry!" Hermione spoke up. "Neville would certainly have blown up today's potion too, if I hadn't scooped out the shells he popped in!"

Harry just smiled half-heartedly. His mind was still on Tom.

On the way, Ron spotted Lupin standing in the corridor. He greeted him enthusiastically.

"Good day to you too, Ron and Hermione. I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow Harry for a while."

Hermione cast curious looks from Remus to Harry. "Uhm, sure, Professor. Harry, we'll see you later?"

"Yeah." Harry turned and followed Lupin through the corridor filled with students to his office. Once they reached Lupin's rooms, he spelled the doors locked and turned to Harry with a pleased face. "I've a surprise for you, Harry," he revealed. "But you've got to keep this a secret, all right?" When Harry nodded, he went on. "I've talked to Dumbledore and we've decided that you should get a chance to see Sirius as he's your godfather, after all."

"That's brilliant!" Harry said excitedly, after a speechless moment. "When can I go?"

"Right now, Harry," Remus said. He gestured towards the fireplace in the room. "Have you travelled by Floo before?"

Harry nodded. "Once."

"Well, this is slightly different to what you're probably used to. Remember what I told you about, well…Sirius' house being under the Fidelius Charm? The house has been shut off from the outside world completely, and this is the one and only way to access the house, besides the front door. You can Floo into and out of the house, but from the house you can't reach anywhere except my office."

Harry's brow wrinkled. "Is that safe, sir? I mean, what if someone manages to sneak inside your office and floo to the house? Sirius would be in danger!"

"Don't worry, Dumbledore has taken care of that." Remus pointed to the fireplace again. "Anyone can use the Floo to travel anywhere, but Dumbledore fixed it so that the only people who are able to reach Sirius will be Dumbledore, me and you, Harry."

"But…" Harry frowned. "That should be impossible. If the place is under the Fidelius Charm, I shouldn't be able to enter, since the Secret Keeper hasn't revealed the address to me!"

Remus looked a bit surprised. "I wasn't aware you had any knowledge on this charm."

Harry gave a minuscule shrug. "I did some reading because I got curious."

Remus shook his head. "This is a very complex piece of magic that Dumbledore weaved, Harry. Just rest assured that Sirius is completely safe, and you will be able to go to him, but only through this floo connection. When you're brought to the house by the Secret Keeper, you can come and go at your choice, and through the front door, not the fireplace.

Harry turned to the fireplace. "Are we leaving now, sir?"

"Yes, Harry, you can leave your things here. The Floo powder's there by the poker. Say this clearly – Phoenix Nest. I'll be right behind you."

"Phoenix nest?" Harry repeated doubtfully.

Remus smiled reassuringly. "You'll be informed soon, I'm sure. Go ahead."

Harry stepped into the fireplace with a fistful of Floo powder. "Phoenix Nest!" he proclaimed, and with a swirl of green flames, he was transported to another place.

If he had a choice, he wouldn't travel by floo ever again.

Flames and soot spiraled around him as he was sucked through the fireplace, and he clenched his eyes shut.

He stumbled out of a hearth into an unfamiliar room with a very familiar man sprawled on the couch and reading a newspaper. He looked up as Harry sputtered and coughed and tried to regain his balance, and his eyes lit up.

" _Harry!_ " Sirius exclaimed in delight. "Harry!" He steadied Harry with one hand and brushed soot off him with the other.

For a moment, Harry stood still, drinking him all in, this man – _his godfather_! _His very own family!_

"Sirius!" Harry gasped, his voice blocked by the lump in his throat. He hugged the man tightly, and felt like he was going to burst with joy when a pair of strong arms wrapped around him and hugged him back just as fiercely. At that moment in time and space, Harry felt as if he had come _home_.

Behind them, the fire flared green again and Remus Lupin stepped through.

"Moony!" Sirius looked absolutely gleeful at the sight of one of his best friends. "I didn't know you two would be over today!"

Remus laughed and hugged Sirius. "It's called a surprise. How are you doing?"

"Fine, though I'm going to start hexing myself out of boredom."

Harry laughed. "Are you alone here?" he asked.

"No, actually, there's a house elf here, and Buckbeak was in the attic till the day before yesterday," Sirius answered with a grin.

"Buckbeak was in the _attic_?!"

"We had to keep him out of sight, and the Heamaster decided to keep him here for a few days. He had been sentenced to death, I understand," Remus paused, "Sirius, I can't stay, but I'll be back in two hours for Harry. Classes. Goodbye, you two, and try not to break down the house."

"Ah, Remus, you don't have to spoil our fun!" Sirius teased. Remus rolled his eyes, stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.

"Well now, come on, Harry, and tell me what you've been up to." Sirius sat down with Harry beside him.

Sinking down on the couch next to Sirius, however, he couldn't do anything other than gaze and gaze at his godfather. This was what he had longed for and craved, all his life, each time he spied on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia plant kisses on Dudley's forehead, each time he had watched Ron's mother ruffle her sons' hair, each time he heard Hermione speaking about her doting parents…

He wanted parents, a family, and now…he had his godfather with him against all odds. Alive, breathing, and caring for him.

"Harry…" Sirius said in a low voice, cupping his chin. "Harry, what's wrong?" And it was then that he realized the lower rims of his eyelids were damp.

Before he could mutter out an excuse like how all the soot got into his eyes, and clumsily wipe away the evidence of his sorrow, Sirius's strong hands covered his shoulders, and his grey eyes looked deep into his own tear–filled green ones. He didn't have to say anything. Because Sirius _knew_.

Sirius drew him into a warm hug, and Harry – not used to affectionate physical gestures, rather the opposite actually – stiffened for only a second before he melted into Sirius's embrace and clutched at his shirt, feeling safe, warm, and _loved_.

After he had discreetly rubbed away his tear tracks, he tilted his face up from where it was pressed into Sirius's chest, and said something that he felt he should absolutely say.

 _"_ _I'm so glad you're here, Sirius."_

And if Sirius held him a little tighter, neither mentioned it.

.

Clearing his throat, Harry flushed in embarrassment when he thought back. He'd sobbed on his godfather and clutched his shirt like a teenage girl!

"So…er…news." He cleared his throat again after they returned to normal positions. He scoured his mind to think about something Sirius would find interesting.

"Not much, actually," he said at last. He briefly wondered whether he could tell Sirius about Vodemort at Hogwarts as Tom, but decided against it. If Sirius noticed his short pause, he didn't comment on it. "Everything's back to normal."

"And you still have quite a few months for the year to end, don't you? How are your studies going? How's Snape treating you?"

"Pretty much the same," Harry snorted, "Still hates Gryffindors." Seeing Sirius' scowl he quickly added, "But he did risk his life to protect us that day…"

Sirius shrugged, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "Personally I hate the man. Oh well, what can I do?" He looked at Harry with an air of heavy guilt about him. "I'm you're godfather, and I didn't even come to see you until a decade of your life passed. You were supposed to live with me!"

Harry gazed at him hopefully. "Is there any chance of it? Can I come and live with you?"

Sirius sighed and shook his head regretfully. "I'm afraid not, Harry. I'm a criminal on the run. You wouldn't be safe."

"But you're staying here… Isn't it safe?"

"Yes and no. I don't know whether I should tell you this, but this house is also the headquarters of…. Well, a secret society founded by Dumbledore. Members come and go, but we've not had any meetings for a long time now. Nevertheless, it's not very safe for you unless you know about the society and its members."

"Oh… are you a member too, Sirius?" Harry asked curiously.

Sirius nodded. "Yes, I am, but that's all I can say on the subject. But Harry, aren't you happy with your aunt and uncle? That night, you jumped at the idea of staying with me even though you'd known me only for a little over an hour. Do the Dursleys treat you well?"

Harry swallowed. What _in Merlin's name am I going to say?_ "Uh… of course they treat me well…. It's just…. they're not that used to magic… it makes them….uncomfortable. Besides, I feel, just, you're my family, you and Professor Lupin were my dad's best friends…"

Sirius smiled. "I'm glad you feel that way, Harry. I spent twelve years in Azkaban, and the only things that kept me sane were thoughts of J-James and Lily and Remus and you."

Harry paused and took a deep breath before asking his next question.

"Sirius, what really happened twelve years ago? I don't want to ask anyone except you because no one else knows the whole truth."

Sirius went still.

Then, "Are you sure you want to know, Harry?"

He gave a determined nod. _Yes, I do._

Leaning back, Sirius started the story.

"Years ago, James, Remus… _Peter_ –" he spat the name out, "and I were together in Gryffindor. We were a good team, played countless tricks and pranks, and never got caught except for a couple of times." A small smile stretched his lips. "We even came up with a few good inventions. The map you have, for instance."

Harry's eyes widened. "The map of Hogwarts? The Marauders' Map? You _made_ it?"

Sirius smirked. "Compliments of Padfoot, Prongs, Moony and Wormtail. Guess who's who."

Harry went through the names in his mind. "You're Padfoot, possibly because of your animagus form? Moony…I'm guessing that it's Professor Lupin, named for his lycanthropy brought on by the full moon." He peeked at Sirius who was looking gobsmacked and a wee bit proud. He grinned to himself and went on. "Wormtail…Pettigrew. Fits him." _Traitorous coward._ "Then Prongs was my dad? Why the name?"

"Your patronas is a stag." Harry nodded. "Your father's was the same."

He shared a patronas with his father… Harry felt a sense of lightness envelope him whole. To hear that he resembled his father in one other way…he couldn't be happier.

"The _antlers_!" He laughed out loud. " _Prongs!_ "

"Brilliant deductions, and take fifty points for Gryffindor, Prongslet!"

Harry grinned even wider. "Prongslet?"

Sirius bared his teeth in an identical grin – teeth that were more hygienically pleasing than last time. "Little Prongs!"

Harry laughed again, feeling full and content, a very rare emotion for him. But his good feeling disappeared as Sirius took up the story from where he had left off.

"We were quite clever students, you know. Your father and I were brilliant at Transfiguration and Moony was good at Charms and Ancient Runes. The Marauders' Map was one of the best things we came up with. Keep it safe, Harry." He paused, and then spoke again. "Snape was on the receiving end of many of our pranks, that was one of the reasons for our animosity. And… in seventh year, one of our pranks nearly got him killed."

" _What?!_ " Harry was horrified.

Sirius looked sheepish. "Remus was a werewolf even back then. And well, on full moon nights he'd go down to the Shrieking Shack to transform. You know, that's why the rest of us decided to become Animagi. To keep him company on those nights. Anyhow, one night, I tricked Snape into going down to the Shrieking Shack when Moony had transformed." He sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking. Moony was going to rip him apart – the wolf in him was fierce. Fortunately, James and I were able to pull them apart. From that day onwards, Snape swore to get revenge. And that's what he's after though it's been years."

"I know he hated my dad. He hates me too, because I look like my dad."

"The bastard." Sirius said with feeling. "Anyway, you know our Animagus forms? Your dad was a stag – like your Patronus – and I was a big black dog, well, you saw me, and Wormtail was a rat."

"Scabbers," Harry murmured to himself.

"Your dad was very much in love with your mother Lily. She, unfortunately, thought him a prat. Nothing he did would change her mind, until he showed that though a prankster, he was a good man underneath. They fell in love, and after leaving Hogwarts, they married. They were the happiest couple ever, only happier when you were on the way."

"They lived at Godric's Hollow?"

"Yes. That's when everything began to go wrong. Badly wrong."

"What happened?" Harry whispered, a chill running along his spine.

"All four of us entered the Auror program after leaving Hogwarts. About eight months after you were born, we got information that Lily and James were in danger of being hunted down by Voldemort. Immediately they went into hiding – they couldn't risk you to fight. Godric's Hollow was put under the Fidelius Charm, and we appointed a Secret Keeper. Near that… that Halloween…" Sirius swallowed – Harry recognized the emotion in his eyes, it was difficult for him to recount this. "James was anxious and feared for yours and Lily's lives. We knew Dumbledore had a spy among the Death Eaters who passed information to him. But all the same, James and I decided to change the Secret Keeper – me. We figured that the Death Eaters would come after me, while the real Secret Keeper was Peter. How I regretted that decision! How different would everything be! Like fools, we entrusted Peter with the location, and we didn't even tell anyone, not even Lily and Moony. We were paranoid. That mistake, that decision is what landed us and you in this mess."

He abruptly got up and faced the wall, and Harry distinctly got the feeling that he was blinking back tears.

"On Halloween night, I went to see Peter, but he wasn't home. I suddenly got this…. pit in my chest, like I knew something was terribly, horribly wrong, out of place… I rushed to Godric's Hollow. But it was too late, _I_ was too late. _It was over_. The house had exploded… and… and…. James and Lily were _dead_! _Gone!_ I …. I lost control. Something snapped inside me, and I went _mad_. _Nothing_ made any impact on me, the only thing I could think of was Peter's blood. I wanted to _kill_ him, tear him to _bits_! I went after him like a maniac. When I confronted him, it was in a street full of Muggles. I was beyond all rational thought." His hands clenched. "He started yelling at me – that _I_ had betrayed James and Lily! He screamed at me, and then, he blew up the street. The little rat! He was a Death Eater, he betrayed your parents to Voldemort, and accused _me_ of being responsible for their _murder_! He was more cunning than we gave him credit for. When I was in shock in that street, his wand was behind him. He exploded the place, killing a dozen Muggles, transformed into a rat, cut off his own finger as proof of his death, and escaped. I was left in the ruins with Muggle corpses around me, and laughing like a madman. I really went insane. The aurors turned up, and I was thrown into Azkaban without a trial, charged with the crime of betraying James and Lily to Voldemort. I was also blamed for the Muggle deaths and killing Peter even though I didn't even have my wand out!"

"That's why he yelled at you. To make sure that the people around would think that you were the traitor." Harry's voice came out strained.

"Yes, he was clever. Very clever," Sirius said bitterly. "Everyone thought I was a Death Eater, Voldemort's right hand man, even though I didn't have the Dark Mark. All these years I spent in prison, I..." He trailed off. His shoulders were tense and his whole body was strung up tighter than a bow string. "There was some sort of inspection. Fudge turned up, and I managed to get the newspaper he was holding." His fingers clenched and unclenched repeatedly. "Right there, on the front page, were the Weasleys, and I spotted the rat your friend had. I recognized Peter, of course… In the end, it was thoughts of revenge on what he had done to us that spurred me to escape."

"How exactly did you manage it, Sirius?" Harry hadn't really any idea of how Sirius had done it.

Sirius let out a breathy laugh. "Oh, it was so clever, Harry, so ingenious…I starved myself."

"You what?!"

"I transformed into my animgus form. Dementors don't have as much of an influence on animals compared to humans. Animals don't have complex emotions and memories like ours. I was able to somewhat calm my mind and lie low. I stopped eating and waited till I was thin enough to slip through the bars."

Harry sat back. His mind was whirling. That had to be the least plotted, cleverest, most resourceful, foolhardy plan he had ever heard.

"Yes!" Sirius grinned, apparently reading Harry's stunned expression well. "It was fantastic. I squeezed out through the bars and gave the dementors the slip. After that it was just a matter of crossing the sea."

Harry frowned, bringing up what he had researched of Azkaban. "How did you cross the sea?"

"I swam." Sirius shrugged. "Almost killed me, but I made it. I had to stop and rest a while though."

"Merlin, Sirius! That….just… _Merlin_!"

"I wanted to see you first though." Here, Sirius turned serious. "Immediately after Voldemort was destroyed, there were many other prisoners brought to Azkaban. Both convicted and suspected Death Eaters were imprisoned. Some of them talked. Their spirits hadn't broken yet." He inhaled. "They talked of _you_ , Harry."

"Of _me_?"

"About how you had defeated Voldemort. Killed him, vanquished him, made him go _poof_." Sirius waved a hand. "I don't know whether they were more relieved, shocked, or angry. They spoke of you a lot those first days. Harry Potter. The Boy–Who–Lived. Voldemort's downfall. A savior."

"I was only one year old!" Harry protested.

"Didn't matter. Voldemort had been defeated by you. Half of them thought you were the next Merlin. The other half…well, they had more negative opinions. They kept screaming out that Voldemort wasn't gone. That he would return and strike you down." He wrapped his arms around himself. "I sat silently in my cell, surrounded by Death Eaters, verbally branded as one, and listened." After a few seconds of quiet, Sirius shook out of his stupor. "So after breaking out of Azkaban, I came to see you."

"Privet Drive. I remember, you came out of the bushes right in front of the park. I didn't know who you were. And then the Knight Bus came, and you were gone." Harry remembered.

"I couldn't be seen by anyone. I came to Hogwarts. There I saw Peter as your friend's pet rat. I was seized by a desire to avenge James' and Lily's deaths. You know the rest." He turned, and his face softened. It was then Harry became aware of the distressed expression on his own face. He straightened it immediately.

"You've had a hard life, Sirius. Punished for something that you weren't even guilty of," Harry stood up and reached out to touch Sirius' shoulder.

"Your life has been crazy too," Sirius half–smiled. "You defeated Voldemort when you were only one year old!"

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't me. Dumbledore said that my mother's protection made the Killing curse rebound onto him."

"The people don't say that, do they?" Sirius grinned. "You're a savior to them."

"I don't care. I don't want the fame. All I want is to live without having to look over my shoulder for Voldemort."

Sirius turned sharply. "What do you mean, Harry? 'Look over your shoulder for Voldemort?'" When Harry hesitated, Sirius gasped. "Dumbledore told me that Voldemort wasn't gone for good like everyone believed. He said he was already rising again. Harry, what happened? Did he come after you?"

Harry sank back into the couch. "Actually, he didn't come after me, I sort of went after him."

" _What?!_ "

Sighing, Harry rubbed his eyes. "It was in first year. The DADA professor, Quirell was sort of bound to Voldemort. Like he was possessed, but still able to think and speak for himself. Voldemort was… at the back of Quirell's head, hidden by a turban. Nobody knew. But then Gringotts was broken into, and we – Hermione, Ron and I – discovered that the Philosopher's Stone was hidden in Hogwarts. We thought _Snape_ was going to steal it for Voldemort. Dumbledore was away and we couldn't reach him. So we decided to stop Snape from getting the Stone ourselves."

"Harry! Do you have any idea of how dangerous that could have been?" Sirius nearly yelled.

"We couldn't let Voldemort get it! If he did, he could use the Elixir of Life to return! We went down the trapdoor – it was guarded by a giant three-headed dog. But someone had gotten past it before us. The Stone was guarded by several obstacles besides the dog; Devil's Snare, winged keys, and a chess game. I think there were more, but they had already been disabled."

"Merlin, Harry, how did you get past them?" Sirius asked in wonder. "Surely it must have been Dumbledore who set up the obstacles, how could you get past them?"

Harry grinned. "Hermione's knowledge of Herbology got us out of the Devil's Snare. The winged keys, well, one of them was the key to the door leading towards the Stone, and there was a broom, I knew how to fly. The chess was exactly like Wizard's Chess. Ron's a brilliant player. He played the game, sacrificing his piece in the end. So I went on to the Stone alone. Only, I wasn't _quite_ alone. Quirell was there, and so was the mirror of Erised. We were mistaken about Snape, by the way. He made me look into the Mirror, and I saw myself holding the Stone. And the next thing I knew, the Stone was in my pocket!"

"How did it get there?"

"Dumbledore later said that he had fixed the Stone's security in a way that only a person who wanted to find the Stone and _not_ use it could get it. Somehow, when Quirell tried to strangle me, my touch burned him… it turned him into ash, and Voldemort escaped in a swirl of dust. Quirell was… well, he was gone." _Or dead, more accurately_.

Sirius collapsed onto the couch next to Harry. "For Godric's sake, you must have been only _eleven_ years old! What were you _thinking_! What was _Dumbledore_ thinking! You went to face _Voldemort_! _Alone_! You could have been hurt!" he groaned.

"Sirius, don't be upset. I couldn't let Voldemort get the Stone if I could do _anything_ to stop it," Harry protested.

Sirius sighed. "I know. What you did was very brave. Your parents would have been proud. Alarmed, but proud."

Harry ducked his head to hide his blush. Seeing this, his godfather laughed and ruffled his hair. "Come on, Prongslet, I'll show you around the house."

.

* * *

After a somewhat disorganized tour during which Sirius kept Harry away from certain areas of the house, Harry and Sirius entered the kitchen. There was an old, crabby looking house elf preparing lunch. "Master Sirius Black has come to shame the noble House of Black," he grumbled. "Nasty Master has bought another nasty guest…"

"Kreacher, you can go. Leave the lunch on the table," Sirius ordered, and Kreacher obeyed, still muttering under his breath.

"Kreacher must obey the nasty shameful Master Sirius. Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black…"

"Cheerful, isn't he?" Harry remarked.

Sirius chuckled. "He's a bad-tempered old thing. Been in the Black family for a very long time, even when my mother was the mistress of the house. When I inherited the house, I inherited him too. He works, but he hates me, like everyone else in my family."

"Why?" Harry asked, before biting his lips and shaking his head. "No, sorry, I shouldn't have asked that, it's personal…"

"It's alright. I'll explain everything to you, but on another day, not today. Sit down, you must be hungry. Kreacher hasn't poisoned any of this, I promise, I forbade him to." At Harry's alarmed face, he chortled. "Relax, I was joking."

Harry visibly sagged in relief. "Why don't you set him free of his servitude if he dislikes you so much?" he asked.

"I wanted to, but he knows too much about the Headquarters. He'll probably go straight to another Black, and spill all our secrets."

While they ate, Harry told Sirius about Dobby and how he had freed him from the Malfoys. At the end of the story, Sirius laughed out long and loud. "Oh Harry, Harry, you'll be giving us Marauders a run for our money! The things you get up to!"

.

* * *

After lunch, Sirius led Harry back to the library. "Moony will be here soon. You must go back before someone notices you're gone," he said. As if on cue, Lupin's head emerged from green flames in the fireplace.

"Ah, ready to go, Harry?" he asked.

Harry nodded, before turning and hugging his godfather tightly. "I'll come again soon, Sirius."

See that you do, Prongslet."

Harry stepped into the fireplace and flooed to Hogwarts. The last thing he glimpsed before the green flames wrapped around him was Sirius's tormented grey eyes fixed on him longingly.

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	10. Chapter 10 - Forcing Compliance

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The last few Ravenclaws stood up to leave the library. In a corner, camouflaged within the tall shadows of the bookshelves, Tom felt relieved. These stragglers had been particularly irritating; discussing Astronomy, each one pretending to know more than they did. The only thing that amused him was that after a lull in the discussion, one of the girls had brought up a new topic. Tom Riddle. He was rather irked when they began to exclaim about his " _sharp cheekbones!_ ", " _flawless skin!_ " and the rest of it. At one point, even a boy of the group had commented on his perfect masculine figure!

Finally after all the noise of the library had died down, he emerged from his dark corner towards a table next to a window. He had always loved Hogwarts and it had been his only home. He found solace in its grey stone walls, its moving staircases and its other familiar nooks and crannies.

For now, however, he put aside his nostalgic thoughts and focused on the matter at hand. His plan to steer Harry towards the Dark side may have seemed foolhardy, but he knew that under the usually reserved boy was a flickering flame of darkness. He was sure that, besides him, nobody knew the Golden Boy so deeply. Perhaps Dumbledore realized, but he would make sure that it was too late for Dumbledore to save his precious weapon. He would be the one to nurture that potential in Harry. To do that, he needed to be close to him. Gryffindors did _not_ hang out with Slytherins. For them to spend time together – at least when he was still the new student – would appear suspicious. The best way to reach out to Harry would be in classes. He had to gain every chance he could to manipulate Harry – like Dumbledore must have done for years. But that old coot had had years with Harry. _No matter, I will not fail_.

He then took out two scrolls from his sleeve. One of them was Harry's timetable, the other his own. He compared the two again. Out of the other optional subjects, Harry had chosen Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, while Tom had opted for a more useful subject – Ancient Runes. Smirking, he took out his quill and started altering Harry's timetable.

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* * *

On his way out of the boys' changing rooms, Harry thought back to the Quidditch practice he'd just been to. Wood was driving them hard, but nobody wanted to complain because he was putting all that effort for the Gryffindors. Their match against Ravenclaw was after the upcoming match of Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw. Having defeated Gryffindor, they would probably win this match too. If –

"Harry."

Harry jerked to a halt, his heart thudding. The corridor he was standing in was rather dark, since practice had lasted well into the evening. The chill that came with dusk did nothing to soothe him. He glanced to the side. There was nobody about, nobody, save for himself and….well… _him_.

"Tom." He kept the instinctual fear out of his voice – or so he hoped. He stood there motionless. Behind him, he could hear the faint rustlings of Tom's Slytherin robes. Soft footsteps blended in with the silence as Tom drew nearer and stood before him.

"Come with me," he said in a deceptively soft voice. By the time Harry had registered his words, Tom was already halfway down the corridor.

"Wait, where are you going?" Harry called out, briefly wondering if he could risk disobeying Voldemort. On second thoughts, he decided to keep the inevitable trouble to a minimum. Still that didn't mean that he had to go quietly.

"Where are you taking me?" he questioned as he followed Tom. "The Forbidden Forest? Astronomy tower? Dumbledore's office?"

He observed a slight twitch in the corner of Tom's lips, and felt satisfied, though apprehensive, that he had managed to annoy the Dark Lord.

What he didn't realize was that it was Tom trying not to laugh, not gritting his teeth.

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* * *

As they walked, Tom came close to snorting. Harry's suggestions of their destination had ranged from the Quidditch pitch to a Death Eater meeting. It was thoroughly satisfying to see the flabbergasted look on his face when they at last reached their destination.

"The library?" Harry said in surprise. "Why are we here?"

"Sit down," Tom ordered, ignoring his questions. He took a seat opposite Harry, and fixed his eyes on him.

When he wasn't forthcoming with any explanation, Harry began to squirm uncomfortably under his stare. "Your hair is wet," Tom observed all of a sudden.

Harry almost tumbled out of his chair when he spoke unexpectedly. Cautiously he raised a hand to touch his damp hair. "Oh, uh, yeah, I just had a shower. After practice, Quidditch practice."

Tom nodded and took out his wand. Harry leapt up, taking a defensive stance, hand flying to his own holly wand. Tom merely rolled his eyes and with a quick flick, dried Harry's hair. "You shouldn't leave it damp for long. It's a sure way of catching a cold. Now sit down."

Harry collapsed into his chair in ill–concealed shock. Inwardly smirking, Tom drew out some parchment and passed it to Harry. "Take a look at this, Harry."

Harry reached out for the parchment. Smoothing it out, he realized what it was. "This is my timetable… How did _you_ get it?"

"That is of no importance. You will need it."

"But I already know my classes," Harry said with a slightly puzzled look.

Tom suppressed a gleeful smirk. This was the moment….

"You will have to recheck your timetable, seeing that it has changed," he said as calmly as possible.

Harry glanced back at the parchment. A few minutes passed. Then he raised his head, eyes scrutinizing him suspiciously. "What do you mean exactly?"

Tom answered evenly, "It means just what I said. You will no longer be taking the same classes."

" _You_ did something, didn't you?" Harry suddenly said with irritation creeping none too subtly into his voice.

"If you mean that _I_ changed it, then you are correct," Tom answered smoothly.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You can't do that! Besides, this….this is insane!" He jabbed the paper, feeling slightly lightheaded at the alterations.

Apart from the compulsory subjects – Transfiguration, DADA, Potions, Herbology, and Charms, History of Magic, Astronomy – and the two optional subjects he was taking – Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, Tom had added two more subjects – Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Altogether, Harry had eleven subjects on his timetable.

"I think you'll find that I can, Harry. Don't even think of skipping the subjects I have selected for you. In a prestigious school like this, you should know better than to waste the privileges offered to you. Having free periods and being with your companions is all very well, but remember that friends can leave you anytime. But the knowledge you gain will not."

Harry gaped at his enemy. "So you want me to study more? Is that it?"

"I want you to realize your true potential, Harry."

"True potential? And this is supposed to help me?"

"Quite."

"Have you _seen_ this? _Eleven_ subjects! Even Hermione's taking only ten. I won't have time for this!"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Kindly do not raise your voice at me. Secondly, as for the subjects, I have endeavored to make you attend classes that will prove useful in the future for you."

"Um, sorry if I'm bursting your bubble, Tom, but these will not help me in any way. Ancient Runes? I have no interest whatsoever in it. And Arithmancy? Are you kidding me? I won't be able to make head or tail of it!"

"How disappointing. You are supposed to have more sense than this. If you want to become a formidable wizard, you must learn everything at hand. Frankly, I'm surprised Dumbledore hasn't advised you."

"Well, listen, Tom, this is… um, thoughtful of you – if you don't have a hidden agenda behind this – but I simply can't cope with this. I have Quidditch practice twice a week, besides piles of homework that are threatening to bury me. Thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

Tom pinned him with a glare. "Quidditch is not everything! Fine, if you must fuss so, you are welcome to drop Care of Magical Creatures."

"What?!" Harry said in unease. "I can't do that… It's Hagrid's class!"

Tom sighed to himself. Here was the unnecessary compassion coming through. "Am I to understand, then, that you do not find the class interesting?"

"Um, no, not particularly. But Hagrid–"

"…is the teacher and you wish to display your support by attending the class though you realize that you are wasting your precious time. Am I accurate?"

"Hey! When you put it like _that_ –! "

"Have it your way, then, Harry. But don't say I didn't warn you – you will barely have a minute to yourself with all these classes."

"Good thing I won't be following this timetable then."

"You are fully aware of the consequences of failing to do so, aren't you, Harry?" Tom's voice was light, but there was no mistaking the steel undertone.

Realizing that he was helpless, Harry rose in a rage and stalked away after grabbing the paper off the table.

Behind him, he heard Tom call, "I'll see you _in class_ tomorrow."

Harry knew that it was a veiled threat, not a parting comment.

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* * *

"Harry, my boy, this is rather a late call," Dumbledore looked at the rapidly–breathing Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "Never mind, do sit down. Lemon drop?"

"Sorry sir, I know it's late, but this couldn't wait till the morning. And no, thank you."

"What is it, Harry? I assume it's nothing worrying?"

Harry took out his timetable and handed it the headmaster. "Actually sir, it _is_ rather worrying…" He watched as Dumbledore scanned the parchment. "That's my timetable for this year… well, the _new_ one anyway…"

"Am I to understand that your timetable was altered by Tom?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry blinked. "H-how did you know so fast?"

"Your eyes reveal a lot, Harry." Dumbledore turned back to the timetable. "Now what he hoped to achieve by this, I wonder…"

"I'm not sure, but he said it was to help me realize my _true potential_ … But he's blackmailing me into attending these classes! What do I do?"

Dumbledore stroked his white beard and looked thoughtful. "True potential…." He sighed. "Well, Harry, I'm afraid you won't like the solution, but you must attend these classes with him. After all, you are gaining much and losing nothing."

Harry sighed too, reaching out for his timetable. "I don't have a choice, do I, sir? Tom isn't the type to make idle threats somehow." He stood and headed towards the door.

"Harry," Dumbledore called him and Harry paused on the threshold, looking back. "Do try not to enrage him. It would be wise to do what he tells you to."

Harry's despair felt like a deep dark well pulling him down into it. _So now I'm to obey him…? If I can at least get him to lower his guard around him…. Merlin, I_ am _going through this mad plan._

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* * *

Precisely fifteen minutes after Harry Potter walked out of the headmaster's office, Severus Snape walked in.

"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" he asked, trying to remain composed though he had been in the middle of an extremely complex potion when he got the urgent summons from Dumbledore.

"Indeed I did, Severus. I fear I may have interrupted your work, but this is urgent." Albus gestured to the chair in front of him. "Please take a seat. Lemon drop, Severus?"

"No, thank you Headmaster. So what is the nature of this urgent matter you mentioned?"

Dumbledore popped one lemon drop into his mouth. "It concerns Lord Voldemort," – Snape flinched at the name – "and Harry Potter, as well."

Snape impatiently waited for the Headmaster to explain. Dumbledore paused. "Young Harry came to me a short while ago with surprising news. It seems that Voldemort is interested in Harry's academic work."

"I fail to see the urgency of this matter."

"Tom has altered Harry's schedule, forcing him to attend more classes, _with him_ , we can safely presume." Seeing a flash of astonishment in Snape's eyes, he continued. "He has mentioned aiding Harry to reach his "full potential"."

Snape stayed silent as he contemplated this new turn of events. He spoke at length, looking at the headmaster. "I agree that this is behavior one would not expect from the Dark Lord. Unless, of course, he is using this as an opportunity to approach your precious and dear brat Potter."

"Even if he does mean to draw nearer to Harry, we cannot do anything to stop him." Albus rubbed his eyes under his spectacles. "Harry is in grave peril, Severus, and it is up to only the two of us to keep him safe."

Severus made his opinion on that clear with a snort. "Of course, as soon as Harry Potter is in danger, the world must stop revolving."

"I wish you wouldn't speak that way, Severus. After all, he is Lily's son." The twinkle in his eyes was prominent. Snape's lips thinned to the point that they vanished. "You may insist on seeing the worst of him, but Harry is a good person, pure at heart, and much different to what you would expect."

"I'm sure," Snape replied bitterly, "the Potter brat is an angel in disguise. Now, what are your plans regarding this situation, Headmaster?"

Fingers intertwined, the Headmaster spoke in a grave tone. "I'm afraid that the state of affairs calls for another pair of eyes. We must bring Minerva into this, Severus."

"Minerva! Honestly, Headmaster, that is the worst possible decision one can take regarding something as delicate as this! How well do you imagine she will take the news that the _Dark Lord_ is currently in her class, and trying to coerce one of her House to obey his commands? These hot–headed Gryffindors do not stop to think! It is very likely that she will charge into his presence brandishing her wand and…"

"Severus, Severus…" Albus interrupted, holding up a hand to stop Snape's angry tirade. "I am well aware of the ancient animosity between Gryffndors and Slytherins, and I daresay by extension, you and Minerva. All the same, her resourcefulness will be vital at this moment."

"Even if that were true, you forget something, Headmaster. _Nobody knows that the Dark Lord is back!_ And as far as I can see, nobody will want to believe it! Surely you are not suggesting that we spread the word that the Dark Lord has risen again!"

"And that will be an added advantage to Voldemort." – another flinch from Snape – "Minerva need not know the entire scene, only that Harry needs watching."

Snape didn't think it was a good idea at all to include Minerva in this case, fully or partially. Gryffindors, thinking with their hearts instead of with their brains! But he could only watch as she, following Dumbledore's call, entered the office.

"Is anything the matter, Albus?" she asked worriedly, her eyes flickering worriedly between the twinkling Headmaster and the scowling Potions Master. "It is rather late for it to be a friendly gathering."

Severus snorted at that. "Perceptive as always, Minerva," he muttered.

Dumbledore invited McGonagall to sit. "There are a few urgent matters that I would like to share with you. But first and foremost, it is of the utmost importance that no ears outside of this room come into contact with this information." He placed emphasis on the word information.

Minerva glanced over to Snape again. "Then I take it that Severus here is part of this too?"

"Indeed." Albus replied. "But this matter is not known by anyone apart from the three of us, excepting two… ah, students."

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "This just gets more intriguing by the minute. Be assured of my full secrecy, Albus. Now, what is it?"

Dumbledore looked over at Snape's glare before resting his eyes on the wizened old lady before him. "Well, it is a rather delicate matter, concerning one of your House." At Minerva's inquiring look, he elaborated. "Harry Potter."

"What about him? I sincerely hope he has not fallen headlong into trouble again…"

"As it happens, he has, Minerva, although he is not at all at fault this time. The problem lies with our newest student in Slytherin."

"Mr. Riddle." Minerva interjected, a look of curiosity crossing her face. "What has he to do with Mr. Potter?"

"For Merlin's sake, if you would _just_ stop interrupting him long enough for him to complete a sentence, you'd learn _much_ more about the circumstances!"

Minerva fully returned the glare aimed at her from Snape's direction and switched her attention back to the headmaster.

"To answer your question, _everything_. I'm afraid I cannot disclose all the details to you, Minerva. Know that it is not a case of trust, but of fear for countless lives. What I _can_ divulge to you, is this," Dumbledore leaned forward, the candlelight glinting off his half-moon spectacles, "Harry has included two more subjects into his schedule. And both of these, as well as most of his other classes will include Mr. Riddle. I am asking you to observe them both, _carefully_ , and while this is not a simple case of House rivalry, it is essential for Harry's safety. Both Severus and I are looking out for him, but your effort would be rather appreciated."

Brow furrowing, Minerva asked, "Am I to understand that you are implying that Mr. Riddle poses a threat to Potter's life?" Albus gave a grave nod, and she looked shocked. "But…. Albus, what on _earth_ is happening?"

"I apologize, Minerva, but I cannot reveal anything else, only that you attempt to keep an eye out for interactions between Harry and Tom." Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking at her knowingly. "I am sure you will take care of your lions as well as Severus takes care of his snakes."

Minerva's lips suddenly thinned. "I take it that _Tom Riddle_ is not all he seems?"

"Indeed."

Minerva, now looking much more determined, nodded once. She would not let any child under her care be hurt by a snake.

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	11. Chapter 11 - Await the Truth

_**Review after you read please!**_

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As it turned out, Harry didn't need to worry about to meeting Tom in his new classes because of the Quidditch match that took place before any of his new classes.

In the morning, Ron and Harry made their way excitedly to the stands with Hermione following resignedly. Harry forgot all about Tom Riddle and Voldemort, only focusing on his passion and Ron's eager babbling about who was going to win; a discussion that Harry and his classmates joined willingly.

Until Harry found his way blocked by a tall, smooth, dark-haired Slytherin.

"Tom." He acknowledged quietly, not wanting the others to pick up on it.

"Harry." His voice was just as soft, not attracting anyone's attention to them.

Harry subtly pulled away from his group and followed Tom away from the crowd, towards an abandoned box. He was on high alert with his fingers resting on his wand casually…

"I have no intention of attacking you, Harry."

Damn.

"What do you want, Tom?"

"Well, at present, I want to observe this match as a source of – doubtful be as it may – entertainment."

Harry gripped an empty seat. "You don't need me for that."

Tom settled down. "Nor do I need you walking around with a false impression of me."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm hardly the one who goes around turning people's lives topsy–turvy! Quite frankly, I haven't gotten over my anger at being manipulated into this…"

"Manipulated? _Perhaps_ ," Tom conceded with a spark in his eye, "but it's not manipulation if you gain something from it."

"Huh. Great excuse. I'm not getting anything I _want_ out of it!"

The match started, but for once Harry wasn't paying attention to Quidditch. His attention was riveted by Tom. "I should think you are being very ungrateful, Harry," Tom said in a soft voice, "Here I am, making an effort to be friends, while all you're doing is throwing it back at my face."He leaned in, smirking coolly. "I was under the impression that Dumbledore wanted you to spy on me." He leaned back, satisfaction filling him at the horrified look on Harry's face.

"Wh-what? Of course he didn't!"

"Really, Harry? Are you sure? I know Albus Dumbledore better than you do. And trust me, he isn't the kindly old man everyone thinks him to be."

"Oh yeah? Well, I think I know what you're trying to do too… you're trying to poison me against Dumbledore! It's not going to work, let me tell you, Tom!" Harry flung back.

Tom stilled for a moment, his calculating eyes fixed on Harry. "Clever boy, Harry. You are cleverer than they give you credit for." Hufflepuff scored for the second time. "But you are still too dense to see what the Light is doing to you."

"Stop trying to make me doubt my place," Harry snapped. "I won't fall for your tricks! And why are you so concerned about my well–being after trying to _kill_ me?"

"You do not know the full story yet, Harry. I once told you that my past actions were not my own. I do not deny, I tried to kill you as a baby, and I have murdered. However, I will not claim full responsibility for them." Tom's eyes pierced Harry, and suddenly made him wonder why Tom kept saying such things. Was there even a shred of truth in it?

"Why do you keep saying that?" Harry opted to go for a straightforward approach. "What did you mean when you said you won't take responsibility for the deaths you caused?"

The Ravenclaw stands erupted in cheers. Ten points to them.

Tom tapped his own lips lightly. "That I am not obliged to reveal to you, my dear Harry, for no doubt, you would go running off to the Headmaster as soon as I tell you."

Harry sputtered. "You – I bet Dumbledore already knows; that's why he allowed you into Hogwarts… because he thought you weren't a threat to anyone's life…"

"Is that so?" Tom asked mockingly. "Well then, why don't you go and beg him to let you in on the secret?"

"He wouldn't tell me," Harry answered, before realizing that it was exactly what Tom wanted to hear. He flushed and added hurriedly, "If it was something I should know, then he'd tell me!"

"Of course he would." Tom's voice was mocking.

"He would!"

"Whatever." Tom waved a hand dismissively. "But why is it that every time we start talking we end up arguing? We're friends after all."

"I've no idea, _you_ tell me, _dearest friend of mine_. It's your fault anyway…"

Ravenclaw scored again and Harry momentarily looked over at the pitch.

"Excuse me? I assure you, I'm putting more effort into this than you are."

"It doesn't matter that you're willing to talk to me," Harry said slowly, "What matters is that you're unwilling to talk about what matters."

"And what is it that matters?"

Harry sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "For starters, you could tell me what you meant… that time when you said you weren't responsible for all those murders…"

"Oh really… Harry…" Tom drawled. "What makes you think I will tell you?"

Harry swallowed, his brain working rapidly. "What do you want in return?" he asked, hoping fervently he was playing right.

A single eyebrow cocked up. "Well well, how _Slytherin_ , Harry!" Tom said, expecting Harry to lash out at the mention of the House. To his surprise, a genuine grin appeared on the other's face. "I will tell you what you want to know only if you attend both the new classes I selected for you."

Harry bit his lip before nodding. "All right….but…" Tom's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to do Arithmancy. No–" he held up his hand when Tom opened his mouth looking displeased, "I'm not saying this to aggravate you. I can't. You might be brilliant at everything, but I'm not. I can't do Arithmancy." He tipped his chin up slightly to show he wouldn't be cut down.

"You will still attend Ancient Runes." Tom finally said.

"Deal. Now tell me."

Tom shook his head with a smirk. "No, not now. Your curiosity will be satisfied on Wednesday night, during Astronomy."

"Fine." Harry relented. Sensing that the conversation was over, he turned his eyes to the game. Before long, the match ended, with victory to Hufflepuff when Cedric, the seeker, snatched the snitch out of the air while Cho was distracted by him.

Hoots and catcalls rang out from all sides. Harry followed an unsmiling Tom to the ground and into the castle. He'd soon find out the truth of the deaths.

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* * *

"That was rather a tame match today, wasn't it?" Ron commented, popping a jelly bean into his mouth.

Nobody answered him. The trio was in the study hall; Hermione was working on a Herbology essay, and Harry had his Charms book open in front of him while he stared off into space thinking about Tom's secrets.

"Where were you anyway, Harry, during the match?" Ron asked. Harry jerked and turned and thought fast of an excuse.

"Oh, um, I was talking to Alicia…sorry I didn't come." He smiled a little.

"Oh honestly you two! Quidditch again!" Hermione sighed.

Ron opened his mouth to retort with something about how amazing quiddtch was, when Colin Creevey rushed in with a box towards them. "Harry! Harry! Something came for you!" He deposited the box on the table and stood there beaming.

"Er, thanks, Colin," said Harry. He looked at the box curiously.

"What's it?" Hermione asked, pushing her parchment aside. Harry shrugged and was about to open it when he realized that Colin was still standing there.

"Thanks Colin," he repeated and Colin bounced away. He lifted the lid and all three peered in. In it was a book: _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ by Laurenzoo.

 _Oh, it's the books for the new subject…_ "Who sent it?" Harry wondered.

"There's something at the bottom, Harry," Ron said, picking it up and passing it to Harry.

It was a note in Dumbledore's slanted handwriting.

 _Harry,_

 _Hoping everything goes well, my boy._

 _A.D._

"Why would Dumbledore send you this, Harry?"

Here goes… "I'm starting Ancient Runes, that's why."

Ron frowned confusedly. "But why?"

"Dumbledore told me to, Ron." _Tom told me to, Ron._

Hermione looked thoughtful. "You're going to be busy then, Harry. You'll be having less free periods now."

"Yeah…" Harry sighed, "Hey, Hermione, what are the extra subjects you're taking, again?"

"Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Magical Creatures," she recited promptly.

Ron spoke up, looking a little pink. "I'm only taking Hagrid's and Trelawney's classes, but I was thinking of taking up Muggle Studies for a term or two…"

Hermione stared at Ron. "Muggle studies? Whatever for?"

"Errm, Dad likes me to, you see…"

"Good for you, Ron!" Harry said heartily. He, on the other hand, wasn't at all looking forward to his new class.

Nor was he completely looking forward to Astronomy…

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 _ **Cliffhanger! Oooh! Review!**_


	12. Chapter 12 - Tale of a Dark Lord

**_We've now arrived at the turning point! Read on to find out what happens,and then review!_**

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A cold wind snaked around Harry as he took the steps two by two. He was late for his Astronomy lesson. Halting at the door to the Astronomy tower, he scanned the open room. Professor Sinistra clapped her hands when she saw him hesitating at the door. "Oh, Mr. Potter! I'm so glad to see you've made it to my class! Unlike last time…"

 _Last time?_ Harry wondered _. Oh…_ Last time he had missed the Astronomy lesson because he and been lying on a hospital bed knocked out from casting a patronas to ward away a bunch of dementors.

The conversation in the class had dropped significantly, students straining their ears to discover what the Boy Who Lived had done. Harry pursed up his lips.

"No worries, I'm sure you can catch up with the rest in no time." She waved a hand adorned with gleaming rings. "Now, Mr. Potter, these weeks, we're working with a partner… let me see… you can pair up with Mr. Riddle! He hasn't a partner, but he does excellently on his own. Go, sit with Mr. Riddle…"

Harry turned in the direction she gestured to and stiffened. Tom Riddle was gracefully seated in a chair before a small table. He looked up smugly and smiled. Anyone else would have interpreted it as a friendly, welcoming smile, but Harry could see what it truly was; a smile of a _predator_. He quelled a shudder and unwillingly dropped into the seat across from the Dark Lord.

The class was dim, with glowing lamps in the shape of planets and stars providing light in addition to the night sky above them. Students were seated across from each other in pairs, small hexagonal tables covered with a deep blue cloth between them.

Harry spotted Hermione and Ron on the other side of the room and exchanged small smiles. Then sighing internally, he turned to Tom.

Who was staring right into his eyes.

Harry drew in a shocked breath before composing himself. Tom Riddle was all about power play, he understood, and to stand his ground, Harry too would have to go Slytherin.

"So I guess you'll have to uphold your end of the bargain now," Harry stated casually.

Icy blue eyes locked onto his. "Are you sure you want to hear the truth, Harry? It isn't pleasant at all."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Not backing out of the bargain, are you?"

"Not at all, boy wonder. But I doubt whether you will accept it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded. He pulled out his quill when Professor Sinistra began explaining various movements of some planet, trying to pretend he was following the lesson.

"You don't seem inclined to believe me, do you Harry?"

"You don't seem inclined to tell the truth!" Harry retorted. A tiny lifting of the corner of Tom's lips was the response he got. "Come on, this is you backing out of the bargain!"

Elegantly raising a finger, Tom said, "I do not go back on my word. But you will not interrupt me, understand?"

Harry nodded, subconsciously leaning forward.

"Many years ago, when I fashioned myself the pseudonym Lord Voldemort, I had dreams, ideals, plans for the Wizarding world, to stop the degradation it is facing. I had power and followers, I had armies at my command. But then… I made a mistake… _intentionally_." He looked across the table at Harry who was drinking in his words. "I executed a dark ritual, one which I paid a heavy price for."

"What was it?" Harry asked softly.

" _My sanity._ " Tom answered. His eyes bored into Harry.

Harry sucked in his breath in obvious shock and horror. "Your– your _sanity_? What does that _mean_?"

"It means that I became Lord Voldemort and lost control."

"Lost control?" Harry repeated, feeling lightheaded. What kind of dark ritual would demand one's sanity as a price? More curiously, why would someone as brilliant–minded as Lord Voldemort go through with such a rite?

"I assure you, I had no idea at the time that it would cost me my sanity." Tom stated, something hard in his eyes.

Narrowing his eyes, Harry gazed at Tom. His thoughts were spinning. "Then that means… you lost your mind – control – and… but…hold on…does that mean…"

 _Does that mean you didn't mean any of what you did as Voldemort?_

His teeth sank into his bottom lip in concentration.

How much was the truth? How much of this peculiar confession was a lie? What should he believe?

Could he, even for a moment, trust this person?

Was the entire tale a well–woven bundle of fabricated lies? How would he know…?

No! He couldn't even be contemplating this! Tom was probably trying to him win him over or something. He was trying to gain his trust and sympathy.

Deception!

"Does this mean that none of what you've done before…that Halloween night…were intentional?"

Tom gazed at him for an eternity.

Harry felt the word before it left Tom's lips.

"Yes."

.

 _No._

 _No! Nonononono…!_

"Am I supposed just drink this in?" He asked, his voice icy, sharp and brittle at the same time. "Prove to me that you spoke the truth. Swear to it."

Tom sighed again. "Very trusting, aren't you, Harry?" Pinning the other with his stare, he said, "I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, hereby do swear on my magic that I spoke the truth about my actions of the past to Harry James Potter."

Harry gaped soundlessly. "Did you just…"

"Swear on my magic?" Tom leaned forward. "I did. I did because I am telling you the truth, Harry. What would I gain by lying to you?"

"What would you gain by being honest with me?" Harry shot back.

Tom smirked slightly. "You work it out, Harry. But I did tell you the truth."

"Not the whole truth, though…" Harry muttered.

He straightened up abruptly. "I need some time to…process this. Please don't let loose any more life stories yet."

Tom inclined his had gracefully, returning to his charts as if he hadn't dropped the bombshell of his life on Harry.

"You turn my entire world upside down, and then pretend everything's as normal as can be…" Harry murmured incredulously.

Tom did not deign to reply, but smirked to himself. _When he was done with Harry, his world wouldn't just be upside down, but falling into pieces._

.

Everything was so confusing. For once in his life, Harry didn't know what he should believe. After his shocking speech, Tom hadn't glanced at him for the rest of the lesson. Whereas Harry was still thinking about what he had revealed. He had so many questions that he didn't want answered yet needed to ask. How was he supposed to take it?

He badly wanted someone to talk to about this. He needed something he had never had – a trustworthy adult.

He couldn't go to Sirius or Remus. That was certain. Besides, the decisions he made would change the fate of the wizarding world in an instant. If that wasn't a burden, he didn't know what was.

When everyone around him started packing away their things and scraping their chairs back, he realized blearily that the lesson was over. Had he been lost in his thoughts for that long?

Tom was looking at him knowingly.

Professor Sinistra came sashaying up to him. "I hope it wasn't too difficult to keep up with today's lesson, Mr. Potter?"

"Uh…" Harry smoothly gathered up his charts and closed his books before she could notice that he hadn't done a single thing during the lesson except for some squiggles at the margins of his parchment. "Sure. I mean, no, it was all right for the most part, professor."

She beamed. "Good to hear, Mr. Potter. I will be expecting to see your completed notes along with your homework at the next lesson, yes?"

Harry tried very hard to keep his eyes off the smirking Tom still languidly seated in front of him. "Homework, yeah, professor. And the missed notes. Got it."

"Good boy. Come to me if you have any problem. Mr. Riddle," she turned to peer at Tom's parchment. "Excellent work like always! I am delighted! I do declare, Mr. Riddle, you could sit for your O.W.L.s tomorrow and still pass with an Outstanding!"

Tom merely gave her an appropriate response and smile, but the look Harry caught Sinistra throwing Tom as she left was definitely _not_ appropriate.

"Oh no, don't tell me she fancies you…" Harry groaned, rolling up his charts to stuff them into his bag. "Because that would be way too weird."

Tom stretched. "She wouldn't be the first." He gave a smug grin.

"Smug bastard."

"Smug _handsome_ bastard." Tom immediately corrected, startling a genuine laugh out of Harry.

The silence settled back, almost suffocating him as it hit him that Tom and he were alone in the Astronomy classroom.

Harry cleared his throat softly, not meeting Tom's eyes while he packed up the last of his stuff.

"Harry." Tom's voice sounded like a gunshot in the empty room.

Harry finished his tidying before looking up at the Slytherin. "I don't think I've had enough time to wrap my mind around this." He took a shaky breath. "I – I need more time. I'll come and see you when I can think straight."

"Fine. But Harry…" Tom grasped Harry's arm as he moved past, pulling him back to face crimson irises. " ** _I'll be waiting_**."

.

* * *

Harry walked out of the classroom, his gait steady till he felt he was a sufficient distance from Tom. Then he sagged against the spiral railings, allowing the cool wind sting his face, to clear his mind.

He needed more.

Before he knew it, he was standing at Dumbledore's office door, the gargoyle having moved aside as soon as he approached.

Dumbledore opened the door himself as he numbly raised his hand to knock, took one look at his countenance and led him inside the office.

"Come in, Harry, and tell me what's wrong. Was your first Astronomy lesson not what you expected?"

"Definitely not," Harry muttered. He felt as if he'd been on autopilot all this time. Here in Dumbledore's office surrounded by warmth and the background musical tones of the whirring spindly instruments scattered around, the dreadful conversation with Tom seemed like nothing more than a far away nightmare.

He proceeded to tell Dumbledore what Tom told him.

By the end of the story, Dumbledore's face had turned grave.

"Is it true, sir? What he told me?" Harry asked desperately.

The headmaster sighed, and slowly nodded. "He must have told you the truth, Harry." Harry gasped, feeling like he was drowning.

"Did you – did you know about this?"

Again Dumbledore sighed, stroking his great white beard. "I…suspected." Harry drew in a breath to scream something along the lines of _"Why didn't you tell me?!"_ but Dumbledore continued. "I suspected, but I did not know for _sure_. We cannot act upon mere speculation."

Harry slid from his chair down to the floor and fisted his shaking hands in his hair, shaking his head. "But there must have been some reason for you to suspect so. _Something_."

Dumbledore, when he spoke next, seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I had watched Tom constantly during his time here at Hogwarts. He always seemed to me a person who thought out each and every detail before taking action. He did not trust the unknown. He preferred not to leave things to chance. He controlled his own destiny." His eyes took a faraway look. "Tom Riddle was a genius. One of the brightest minds ever born. Even when he dropped his birth name and took up the mantle of Lord Voldemort, he still displayed the stupendous intelligence he had possessed at Hogwarts.

It wasn't until a few years after he left Hogwarts that I noticed his intelligent plans having flaws, and his regime showing subtle signs of unsteadiness. Yet the Dark faction flourished." Sighing, Dumbledore looked sympathetically down at Harry. "It does seem to fit in with what he confessed to you, Harry. Don't you agree?"

Harry got to his feet and started pacing. "That might be true or it might not. I don't _know_! Just…" He swallowed. "Doesn't this mean he was…not entirely sane when…when…" He suddenly collapsed back down on the spot he vacated.

His entire world was rocked to the core. Everything had been so simple. He was the Boy Who Lived. Voldemort had killed his parents. Voldemort was evil. He was the villain, and Harry was the hero who was expected to kill the murderer.

 _Now?_

 _._

* * *

Harry had spent about two hours fighting tears on Dumbledore's office floor. Dumbledore had long since transfigured a watch glass into a stool, and was hunched forward on it, patting Harry's shoulder. Harry only raised his head from where it was buried in his knees when he realized how uncomfortable the old headmaster must be.

"There is a possibility that…had Tom been of sane mind…the events of the Halloween night twelve years ago may not have been the same." Dumbledore said slowly.

The dam broke.

The next second, Harry was hardly aware of himself or his surroundings as all the tears he'd been reining in flowed out and down his cheeks. He pressed the balls of his palms to his eyes to try to stop the salty rivulets to no avail.

Dumbledore sighed and squeezed Harry's shoulder comfortingly. "Harry, we all experience such climaxes in our lives, well, perhaps yours are much more nerve–wracking than your peers, nevertheless… what matters is how we deal with it. You haven't had a happy life so far, but maybe this is your chance."

"I don't know what to do…" Harry said in a rough voice. "He…he murdered my parents! Not to mention countless others…his state of mind doesn't excuse that!"

"Doesn't it?" Dumbledore said, now holding his shoulder and looking down at him firmly. "When Sirius discovered your parents' deaths, he was going to murder Peter Pettigrew. He would have if Pettigrew had not escaped."

"That doesn't count!" Harry protested hotly, swiping at his tears. "He'd just seen his best friend dead! Pettigrew betrayed them all, of course Sirius was furious!"

"Had he killed Pettigrew, would you say still say he was not at fault, that he was not to blame for his actions?"

"That – he…he would be…" Harry groaned. "I'm not saying that murder is justified. It's not within anyone's rights to take someone else's life. But Sirius wouldn't kill Pettigrew for his own gain. He'd do it to avenge my parents!" He paused, feeling something in that sentence was wrong. "I would have killed him if I was Sirius," he added quietly.

Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "So then, Harry, if you feel that Sirius's actions can be rationalized, because he was acting on the betrayal on the part of Pettigrew, why can't Tom's actions be justified the same way?"

Harry's jaw dropped open. "No!" he yelled. "That…is _not_ what I'm trying to– Professor! Are you trying to _defend him_?"

"No, child. I'm trying to make you see reason."

"Reason! There are several good _reasons_ why I should enact revenge on Tom, the first, him being my parents' murderer _and_ _my_ murderer as well! Because, whether I survived or not, he did cast the Killing curse at me!"

"Revenge…" Dumbledore sighed. "It has destroyed many a man, Harry. Do not allow that thirst to overtake you. To quench it, you will go down terrible roads, and the end will be ugly."

Harry closed his eyes tiredly and slipped his tie knot loose. "What should I do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I think you already know, Harry. Deep down in your heart, you've known even before you came to me."

.

* * *

Harry found Tom in the Astronomy tower, leaning on the railings and looking up at the stars. It was a while before dawn, and the whole school was in deep slumber.

He had shrugged off his robes, and was now just in his trousers and white shirt. Cool air fanned over his exposed neck and collarbones.

Silently, he walked till he stood beside Tom. His heart was hammering so hard he felt sure it would tear its way out of his chest.

He took a deep breath. He could feel Tom's gaze on the side of his face and realized his eyes must be red rimmed from all that crying. Steeling himself for the most important conversation of his life, he started, "Is this the Astronomy homework? Star gazing?"

"Think of it as a way to pass time." Tom paused, and his voice was significantly deeper when he spoke next. " _I've been waiting_."

"I- I've been thinking…."

"I know."

"I need answers, Tom. I need honest answers." Harry leaned his back and elbows on the railing so that he and Tom were facing opposite directions. Tom only hummed. Harry decided to take it as agreement.

"What was the ritual that stole your sanity?"

Tom looked sharply at him. His eyes had gone crimson. "I cannot answer that."

"Why not? I need answers! You can't just barrel into my personal life and expect me to accept you just like that!"

"I have been in your personal life for twelve years!"

"Not like this! At the back of my mind, not right at the front! And in front of my eyes! Constantly!"

"I will not divulge any information of the ritual, Harry, so don't try to draw anything out of me."

Harry tipped his head back. "At least tell me this: did it work? Did you achieve what you were aiming for?"

After a few quiet minutes, Tom responded with a simple "Yes."

"Would you not do the ritual if you could go back and live your life all over again?"

Tom stiffened again, the only reason Harry could tell was because they were very close to each other. "Perhaps…I would alter the ritual a bit."

Harry sighed. "That just goes to show that you don't regret it."

"I do not regret a single decision I've made." Tom said instantly. "I do not _regret_ anything."

"I guess you don't regret killing my parents that night too," Harry snapped tightly. "Just two more nameless, faceless people to tick off on your 'To Kill' list. And you don't regret trying to murder _me_! Oh wait, I suppose you do. You must be regretting using your trademark Killing Curse. A sharp dagger would have done the job with a lot less complications, wouldn't it? Or you could have just thrown me from the window – I wouldn't exactly have put up much of a fight considering I was still a baby!"

Tom's body slammed hard into his, pulling a gasp from him. Ice cold fingers curled around his throat, steadily cutting off his oxygen supply. Their bodies were pressed together and Harry ineffectively tried shoving at Tom's chest. The grip grew stronger with each second, and Harry drew in gasping breaths.

"Or I could do it, right here, right now," Tom said, his voice so low and cold that it sent shivers down Harry's spine. "I could just strangle you like this. So simple. Nobody around to interfere." Harry tried to pry Tom's hands off. His vision was growing blurry and darker.

He was struggling to breathe.

"Will you?" he asked in a gravelly voice, locking eyes with Tom. "Will you kill me?"

.

Harry thought it was the end.

.

But then the grip loosened, allowing much–needed air to rush into his lungs. He took harsh breaths, trying to ease the rawness of his throat.

"I won't." Tom answered quietly.

Harry coughed, rubbing at his throat gingerly when Tom let go. "You didn't…"

Tom's face was very close to his. "Did you think I would?"

"Just for a moment." A pause, where Harry attempted to bring his breathing back under control. "Will you try to kill me during your stay here at Hogwarts?"

"That would be counterproductive." This time, a ghost of a smirk passed over Tom's face.

"Will you hurt any other person, be it student or staff?"

"Not unless provoked." That was better than nothing.

"Why are you here?" Tom merely looked back outwards. "You won't tell me." Harry sighed and returned to his position leaning his back on the railing propped up by his elbows.

"All right…" Harry spoke, an alert eye on Tom. "Your story was…unexpected…but you _did_ swear on your magic. I don't know how much of the truth you told me…Lying by omission is an extremely clever method of manipulation." He wet his dry lips. " _But_ , if it's true, I want to take this new beginning. I'll see you as _Tom Riddle_ , not Lord Voldemort, and I'll see a boy who hasn't wronged me. Because according to your story, I can't take out my anger on you. I think…. We all make mistakes and we all deserve a second chance. I don't trust you yet, but….. maybe I can. Maybe I can't. I don't know. I want to put all of this behind us, and get to know the real you. I want to begin again. I want to let go of the past."

He fell silent after pouring out his thoughts. If this happened, so much would change…..

Tom was quiet for a few moments, staring at him with an intensity that he met headlong. "Are you sure? You know there won't be turning back after this."

.

It was at that exact moment that Harry's elbows decided to betray him and slipped off the railing.

Harry lost his balance where he was leaning against the railing, and tipped backwards. Before he could tumble over the railing and plummet to his death, however, Tom's hands came around his waist, holding him securely and pulled him back towards him.

Another few seconds passed before the two untangled from each other. .

A deep breath. Then, "Yes, I'm sure."

A slight lifting at the corners of Tom's lips. "Very well. A new beginning for both of us." He held out a hand.

Deep down, Harry felt that _this_ was _the_ moment, when the scales would tip to a side. The future would be fixed. This was the _ultimate_ _choice_.

His hand found Tom's.

The sun rose above the horizon dazzlingly, indicating a new day.

A new life for Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort.

.

* * *

 ** _So destiny changes! Review, I want to know what you guys think!_**


	13. Chapter 13 - Petty Vengeance

_**Reviews make me happy! So please review!**_

.

* * *

"….and the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards…."

"Yes yes Hermione, but the most important part is, _who cares_?" Ron cut in on Hermione's rambling.

They were exiting the Charms classroom. Harry was listening with half an ear to Ron and Hermione's chatter, while leafing through an old book he'd gotten out of the library which had some surprising jinx and hexes.

"Ron, honestly!" Hermione huffed.

"No, really, bloody hell, you should stop listening to Binns – oh." Ron paused, causing Harry to look up from his book.

Tom was standing in their path.

Crap.

Harry hadn't seen Tom since that conversation at sunrise a couple of days ago. Now he stood there, ignoring Ron and Hermione, and looking straight at him.

" _Harry_."

"Hey Tom." Harry thanked his stars that he managed to sound casual.

"H-Harry?" Hermione's voice sounded a bit high-pitched.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Errr… guys, this is Tom Riddle. Tom, this is Ron Weasley, and that's Hermione Granger." Tom nodded towards them, ignored Hermione's breathless "Hi", and walked up to Harry.

"We have Transfiguration in a few minutes. Come, I do not wish to be late."

"You don't need to remind him. Harry's coming with _us_ ," Ron said coldly. Harry bit his lip.

"Hey, it's all right. We….we could go together if you want…"

"Harry, he's a filthy _Slytherin_! We don't want to go with _him_! Get out of our way, Riddle–"

"Ron! Stop it!" Harry burst out in disbelief. "Don't be so _rude_ … just because he's a Slytherin doesn't mean that he's an awful person."

"Why the hell are you defending him?" Ron asked angrily.

"I'm not! For Merlin's sake, stop insulting every green tie you see!"

Ron stormed off, and Harry sighed in despair. "Hermione, could you…just….I'll catch up with you guys later…okay?" She nodded, and with a final glance at Tom, hurried away.

"Sorry about that…" Harry said, running hand through his dark hair.

Tom inclined his head. "I did not expect you to defend me like that."

Harry shrugged. "You looked like you were going to cry…" Their lips twitched, but neither made any more mention of it.

They silently went to the class.

.

* * *

That night, the trio entered the Great Hall for dinner. Ron had seemingly dropped his anger, though no one brought up the subject again. The other two went on ahead while Harry stopped to exchange a few friendly words about Quidditch with Cedric Diggory near the doors.

When Cedric left for the Hufflepuff table, someone brushed past Harry into the hall. Romilda Vane. But – oh! Harry froze at the sight of her.

Her normally long black curls were dull, matted and grey. Her tanned skin was wrinkled and spotted and screwed. She was disfigured to the point that she looked _dreadful_. And the most curious part was that she still walked like she used to, tossing her hair back.

The first students who noticed her halted in their tracks too, and little by little, the Great Hall grew silent. Parvati shrieked at the sight of the once pretty girl in horror.

Romilda stopped, evidently noticing that something was wrong by the way everyone was gaping at her. "What?" This question was directed at Parvati.

"…Y-Your _face_! …..Your…. _hair_ …! What in Morgana's name _happened_ to you?"

Romilda frowned and raised a hand to touch both her face and hair. "What are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled.

Now Lavender had risen from her seat too. "Romilda, can't you _see_? Your hair's gone all grey and…. And your face… your skin….it's…."

Romilda turned, feeling all the eyes on her. "Is this a joke?" she demanded. "There's nothing wrong with me!"

A Hufflepuff girl nearby tossed her a small mirror. Romilda looked into it, frowning, turning her head from side to side before looking up crossly. "What in the world is wrong with me? I look perfectly fine!"

A couple of Slytherin fourth year girls tittered. Even the teachers were staring, perplexed.

Harry just stared at her. _Is it a glamour? But how is it that only the rest of us can see it? That's a really advanced jinx or hex. Who the hell did it?_

Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw prefect and Percy's girlfriend stood and approached. "Oh you poor dear, let me see what I can do." She flicked her wand and uttered a few counter curses, but nothing seemed to work. Romilda's face looked just as ghastly as it had when she entered. "This is a really powerful hex… I've never come across anything like this in my life…"

Romilda whipped around to the Gryffindor table. "What is it? What's WRONG with me?! Tell me!" she shrieked. Everyone was deathly quiet, as if they didn't know what to do. "WHAT'S WRONG?!" She even stamped her foot out of frustration.

Another Ravenclaw girl stood, and told her to tone it down, but Romilda responded with something that made the girl snap, and tell her, quite vividly, what was wrong with her.

By now, Harry was convinced it must have been a student, maybe one of the older ones with a good knowledge of hexes. But who would be so cruel as to go this far, he wondered when Romilda, finally realizing the situation, burst into tears and clawed at her face in despair. For a second, his gaze flittered to the twins, but he dismissed the suspicion immediately. They would never play a prank that would hurt someone so badly.

His eyes swept the Great Hall. At the Slytherin table, Tom, who'd been watching Romilda cry with an impassive face, suddenly raised his eyes to meet Harry's. And then Harry just _knew_ that this was Tom's retaliation for Romilda's attempt to dose him with love potion. But how could he sit there so calmly, watching her break down, and now cover her face and sob loudly? How could he be so heartless?

Yet another voice in Harry's head whispered, what was heartless about the incident? Was Romilda not the one who had tried to rob Tom of his free will just because of her arrogance? In a way, Tom's actions were justified.

At that moment, Romilda fled from the hall, crying so badly she was stumbling. Parvati, Lavender, and Ginny followed. He turned to watch, so he missed Tom coming up to him, until he spoke in Harry's ear. "Impressive, wasn't it?"

Harry glared at him. "It was cruel. You made her cry, Tom."

"Yet it was no less than what she deserved." Harry didn't answer to that. Tom smirked. "You agree with me."

"I…" Harry waved his hands. "I don't. I mean, yes, she deserved it, but you went too far with your revenge."

Another smirk, and then Tom was leaning in. "Be grateful I stopped at disfiguring her with a jinx instead of creating real blemishes on her."

"Merlin, Tom! Do stop it, she's been punished enough," protested Harry, "besides, you didn't even _drink_ that potion."

"It will wear off after about six hours, will that satisfy your yielding heart?"

"Shut up," muttered Harry. "But….hey, wait a minute, you promised me you wouldn't hurt her!"

Tom flexed his shoulders gracefully. "So she is in good health, no?"

Harry gave it up.

.

* * *

Later that day, Harry clutched his books as he hurried as much as he could without tripping. Madam Hooch had kept him for longer than he thought; he was almost late for Potions. Snape was going to – SMACK!

He'd run straight into someone burly. He tried to sit up, but his glasses had flown off. He squinted upwards at a head of slick blond hair.

Oh no…

.

* * *

As the minutes ticked by, Snape's lips pressed thinner and thinner until they were only a thin line. He was very aware of the four empty seats inside his classroom. Potter was one of those missing. Typical.

His gaze flicked to Potter's friends who looked at him anxiously. Then Granger raised her hand. Sighing mentally, he gestured for her to speak up. "Please professor, Harry was kept back by Madam Hooch…"

"I will not excuse tardiness in my class, Miss Granger!" he snapped before stalking to the door. "Ten points from Gryffindor. I don't want to see anyone's noses out of their books till I return!"

He slipped out into the dark corridor, meaning to catch Potter, when he heard Draco Malfoy's voice nearing. He melted into the shadows and watched the proceedings.

Potter came running in the next instant and collided with Crabbe. His glasses hit the floor but remained whole.

"Potter." Draco looked down his nose at the Gryffindor on the floor. "Finally groveling before your superiors, hm?" Crabbe and Goyle snickered.

"Sod off, Malfoy," muttered Potter, feeling the dungeon floor for his glasses.

"Looking for something, Potty?" Draco smirked. His foot hovered over the glasses.

Harry groaned in despair. "No no _no_ , _not_ my glasses…"

 _Crunch_.

Snape watched disbelievingly as Draco stepped on Potter's glasses and broke them. Potter went still at the sound.

"Good luck finding your own backside without them, Potter!" Draco laughed, and set off in the direction of the Potions class with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind. Snape glanced back at Potter, still kneeling there, gathering the broken pieces and cursing softly. He sighed and stepped closer.

"Stop that, Potter, you'll cut yourself," he warned. The boy jerked and peeked up.

"Professor?"

"Potter, do I look like someone who can be mistaken for someone else?" He crouched down, pushed Harry's hands away, and flicked his wand. All the scattered bits rolled closer. Potter knelt there quietly, chewing on his lip, and he made the mistake of looking up into Potter's eyes.

Lily's eyes looked back at him.

He froze. Their gazes stayed on each other.

This close, he could see the green of the irises, so deep, and filled with something he didn't identify. Potter had Lily's eyes, yes, the shape, the way his eyelashes framed them, everything was the same. But Lily's eyes had been emerald green. Potter had emerald eyes too, but if one looked closely, they would see that the exact colour was the _precise_ shade of the _Avada Kedavra_.

Seeing those Killing Curse eyes sent chills through Snape for no reason. For the first time, he saw someone unlike James Potter, but more like Lily Evans.

James Potter had been the bane of Snape's life, but Lily had been his salvation. Potter was, much to his shock, turning out to be better than he thought. He grudgingly admitted, Potter didn't take advantage of other's weaknesses, he didn't prank people cruelly, and he didn't behave the way James Potter had.

All the same, this was the boy who had attacked him a few days ago! The impertinent brat! But Lily's red hair, green eyes and beautiful smile flashed in his mind, and he…NO! He forcibly stopped that train of thought.

"Reparo." He dropped the repaired glasses into Potter's hands and straightened up as the boy slipped them on.

"Thank you, sir." Potter said, and Snape didn't miss the grateful note in his voice. He merely sneered, and turned away.

To his displeasure, Potter caught his sleeve. "Sir?"

He turned around with a murderous look, and he dropped it hastily. "I just wanted to say….I'm sorry I attacked you that night in the Shrieking Shack….I…I was not in my right mind…" He was struggling with his words, though they seemed sincere enough. Snape snorted mentally.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for assaulting a teacher," he drawled and swept away, well aware that Potter heaved a gusty sigh and followed.

.

* * *

 _Figured not even a sincere apology would move Snape_. Harry stepped into class behind the black–clad professor. He was about to go over to Ron when he noticed the different seating arrangement.

"For the sake of those who saw it fit to be late to my class, I shall repeat, for the rest of the semester, you shall remain with the student you were paired with last week till further notice. Kindly go to your correct seats." Snape said from the front.

Harry sighed again. Tom Riddle was his partner for the foreseeable future then. In spite of his anxiety, he didn't miss the envious looks many of the girls were flashing him. He slid onto the stool besides Tom.

"What took you so long?" Tom asked, not taking his eyes off the book he was skimming. "Hooch couldn't have taken this much of time."

"Uh, actually…I sort of had to…go back to get a book…" Harry stammered, unwilling to hand Malfoy's name to the devil.

.

* * *

Tom quietly dog–eared the page he was on, closed the book, and casually looked deep into Harry's eyes. Using Legilimency, he immersed himself in Harry's surface thoughts, and saw the encounter with Draco. _Something would have to be done…_

Tom said no more, but his mind was far from it.

.

* * *

 ** _What did you think of Tom's petty vengeance? Let me know!_**


	14. Chapter 14 - Hogsmeade

_**Title says it all.**_

.

* * *

After an exhausting Herbology lesson, Harry and Ron followed Hermione towards the study hall, and plopped down. Neville was still flushed from when Professor Sprout had praised him for his project.

Harry had sat down next to Seamus who was waving his wand over an empty inkwell. He was muttering something under his breath over and over again. Harry watched bemusedly for a few minutes, and then turned to Dean and asked, "What's he doing?"

"Trying out a new transfiguration spell," answered Dean shrugging.

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh no…"

.

* * *

Minerva, ever since that mysterious talk in Albus' office, had resolved to watch both Harry and Riddle. Somewhat difficult, but she wasn't a Hogwarts' professor for nothing.

Today, she was supervising in the study hall, when Potter, Weasley and Granger came in. She watched the raven haired boy discreetly. He sat next to Finnegan, who was trying out something with an old inkwell. Potter stared for a few minutes, then asked something from Thomas. The dark skinned Gryffindor answered with a shrug, but Potter's eyes widened, and he hastily tried to scoot away. He was too late. The inkwell blasted, sending out a shower of sparks and puffs of grey smoke. The ones closest, Finnegan, Thomas, Longbottom and Potter, disappeared in a cloud of grey.

Even as she hurried towards the table, Potter's wand emerged from the smoke, with a muffled incantation of "Evanesco". The smoke began clearing, and the boys started coughing. But when she approached, she noticed a shield around Potter. Her conclusion that Potter had put up one to cover himself dissolved when he raised his head and looked around surprised _. Who had conjured the shield?_ She observed that the shield was only enclosing Potter, leaving the rest of the students open.

Potter looked around, and his gaze stopped at a figure near the door. She slowly turned to see Riddle. Potter mouthed something like " _Thanks_ ", and the Slytherin inclined his head and disappeared.

 _So Riddle had protected Potter…. A Slytherin protecting a Gryffindor… How odd…_

.

* * *

Another Hogsmeade weekend was looming up, and Harry discreetly distanced himself from the excitement of his friends. He couldn't quite squash down his envy, and he didn't want to spoil Ron's and Hermione's enthusiasm.

However, on Friday afternoon, when he returned to the common room alone after one of Wood's impromptu Quidditch meetings, Harry found a folded note atop his books. Opening it, he found a few lines of slanted cursive writing.

 _Harry,_

 _Please come up to my office. There is something I have for you._

 _A. D._

 _P. S. – I enjoy Acid Pops._

Dutifully, Harry made his way to the Headmaster's office. He said the password – acid pops – to the stone gargoyle guarding the staircase, went on up, and knocked on the door. He pushed the door open when he was bidden to come inside, and found Dumbledore seated at his table.

"Good evening Professor," Harry said, also politely declining the offered lemon drops.

"Ah, so it is, my boy," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I have a small surprise for you." He slid a paper towards Harry, who took it curiously, and skimmed it.

Then he looked up, his face a mixture of disbelief and delight.

It was a slip signed by Dumbledore saying that Harry Potter would be allowed to join in the following Hogsmeade trip.

"Sir, is this actually…?" Harry's voice died out, he could hardly believe it.

"That is exactly what it is, Harry." Dumbledore looked kindly at him. "But as I am not your actual guardian, I can only give you restricted permission. That means you will not be allowed to join all the excursions, only a very few."

"That's fine, sir! Honest. I'd wanted to go for so long….Thank you so much!" he grinned at the headmaster.

He had to tell Ron and Hermione.

.

* * *

He ran into them on the way back to the common room. "Ron!" he called, and both of them turned to him. "Ron! I just got permission to go to Hogsmeade! Finally!"

Ron whooped and smacked him on the back. "That's brilliant, mate! We could browse Zonko's and Honeydukes and….so much!"

"But Harry," Hermione spoke up curiously, "who signed your slip?"

"Dumbledore, but it's just restricted permission. He said I could go only on a few weekends… But, hey, I'm not complaining!" Perhaps it was a small concession to keep his mood good around Tom.

"Yeah! You should totally see….well, everything!" Ron went on in an excited voice. "Oh!" he said as they reached the courtyard and saw other students. "We could all go together! Me and you and Hermione and Seamus, Dean, Neville, Fred, George…what do you think?"

Hermione nodded. "That's a really nice idea, Ron, maybe we could ask Percy too…"

Ron wrinkled his nose, but Harry didn't listen to his answer. He spotted a head of dark hair, pale skin, and Slytherin robes in the center of the courtyard, and started turning something over in his mind.

"…Harry? Harry!" Hermione's insistent voice brought him out of his thoughts. He turned and gave his best friends a sheepish smile.

"Sorry…hey, do you guys mind if I asked someone else too?"

"Who?" Ron asked curiously. He exchanged a look with Hermione when Harry merely bit his lip, then his eyes widened and he almost leapt on the spot.

"Harry, is it a girl?" Both Ron and Hermione asked together.

"What?" yelped Harry in shock. "Of course not! It's…."

"It's _who_?!"

Harry badly wanted to answer "You–Know–Who" to that, but refrained. "Look, don't worry, it's a guy, and I'm not even sure he'll want to come, but I just want to ask him…so will you mind?"

"Of course not, Harry, you ask him, we'll meet you in the common room," Hermione smiled at him, caught Ron by the elbow, and went off.

Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't even sure what wild impulse made him decide to ask Tom out with the rest of the Gryffindors. It only spelt trouble.

But still…. Ron's enthusiasm had warmed Harry. Could theirs warm Tom too?

He slowly walked towards Tom, but at the very last second, he abruptly turned and strode into one of the darkened corridors around. _I can't tell him in front of all these people! What if he laughs in my face?!_ He sat down on a stone bench to wait till at least half of the students left.

A hand touched his shoulder lightly, and he was up and off the bench with his wand out faster than lightning.

Tom stood behind him, also with his wand out, like Harry, but not pointing it at Harry, unlike him.

"Tom…sorry…" Harry said, flushing in embarrassment. The thing was, ever since he was a little kid, he had always shied away from physical contact. Aunt Petunia's slaps and smacks, Uncle Vernon's beatings, and Dudley's shoving and kicking and punching had made him wary of physical contact. Not all the time, of course. He didn't mind it much when Hermione hugged him, or when Ron slung an arm over his shoulders. But when the touch was unexpected, he just…reacted defensively.

He tucked his wand back in. Tom did the same, and sat down onto the seat next to Harry.

"So…I take it you wanted to talk to me?" he asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "How did you…. Oh well, never mind. I just, um, wanted to ask…" he shook his head and started again. "We're going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, so…do you want to come with us?"

Tom stared at him coolly. "When you say ' _we'_ …"

"Me, Ron, Hermione, and some other Gryffindors…" When Tom's face didn't change, he sighed. "Look, never mind, I just thought I'd ask…See you later."

As he turned, Tom's voice stopped him. "Wait." He turned back. "I admit I have no intention of joining those rowdy raucous Gryffindors, but perhaps _we_ can meet in Hogsmeade later."

Harry flashed him a crooked smile. "All right, then, I'll meet you there."

Internally, he hoped he wouldn't regret this.

.

* * *

Harry laughed in sheer delight along with Ron. His very first Hogsmeade outing! The big group of Gryffindors – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Fred, George, Angelina, Lee, Parvati and Percy – had come down to Hogsmeade pretty early. Now they had split up – the Golden Trio went to Honeydukes, the twins, Angelina, and Lee Jordan went to Spintwitches, the sports shop, Percy went to Tomes and Scrolls, and the rest of the boys went to Zonko's. Parvati disappeared in the direction of the Hairdressing Salon.

An hour later, the three stepped out of the sweet shop. Ron's pockets were bulging, but Harry hadn't bought much. They stood in the sun for a minute.

"I think the rest are still at it," Ron remarked. Then his face changed."Oh. Look who's coming." Harry looked up to see Tom strolling towards them, his face set in a smirk. He stopped right in front of Harry.

"Hey Tom," Harry said. He glanced sideways. Ron was scowling, and Hermione…was twisting her hair?

"Hello _Harry_." Tom said, again not sparing a glance at his friends.

"Riddle, who asked _you_ to come over?" Ron's tone was unmistakably rude. Harry quickly jumped in.

"I invited him. Remember, I told you guys yesterday?"

Ron looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "But he's a _Slytherin_!"

"And you didn't say you were going to ask _him_!" Hermione added.

Tom moved to Harry's side, and faced the other two. "I wasn't aware that the two of you were his babysitters," he said in his soft, yet dangerous voice. "Who he chooses to associate with is certainly none of _your_ business."

"W-we don't mean that… We were just surprised to see you…Usually Slytherins don't spend time with other Houses…" Hermione put in. "Would you like to come have a butterbeer with us?"

.

* * *

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly, to Harry's relief. Ron had not said anything more after a pleading look from Harry. Hermione, on the other hand, was immersed in Tom. There were no more uncomfortable encounters, not counting the end of the day when Ron had pulled him aside to ask him why he had invited Tom.

Harry had sighed and said that Tom was helping him in Potions, and he simply _had_ to be nice. They didn't need to know the truth after all.

Harry rubbed his eyes and closed the _Encyclopedia of Toadstools._ He found himself turning to his books more and more to keep up with his new classes. He had recently discovered that reading through the class material kept him abreast with homework. With Ancient Runes, and the extra Quidditch practices, he had been forced to become more organized. Gone were the free periods, the warm evenings where he would read Quidditch magazines, or play chess or Exploding Snap with Ron. But it was definitely worth it, he decided. Tom had been right. He shouldn't have given up on valuable subjects just because he was too lazy. It helped that History of Magic was better, since, according to the rumours, Dumbledore had asked Binns to encourage the involvement of students instead of just lecturing them. Now Binns – whenever he remembered – would ask questions, and this kept the students from simply slumbering.

Harry sighed. He supposed he should be grateful to Tom for opening his eyes to this, but still, he didn't expect Tom to do this out of the kindness of his heart – if there was any.

He and Tom were…interacting better…to his shock, Tom actually understood him in some aspects, more than anyone ever could, and he found himself relaxing slightly in his presence. They had begun sitting together in many lessons. Potions, History, Astronomy. Divination he partnered with Ron, and Ancient Runes he partnered with Hermione, though sometimes he sat with Tom. The rest he would alternate between all three.

He wasn't stupid enough to believe it could go on, though. Gryffindors hated Slytherins on sight and principle, and vice versa. Sooner or later, it would blow up.

.

* * *

 ** _Leave reviews please!_**

 ** _The last line of Dumbledore's note is from book 6._**


	15. Chapter 15 - Luna Lovegood

**_Hello there everybody!_**

 ** _First off, before you go ANY FURTHER with reading the story, you MUST read this._**

 ** _I have a few things to say, things I should have said at the start of the story. However, since I'm new to posting fics up, I hope everyone will forgive me. All right. On with it._**

 ** _I._** ** _TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE_** ** _  
In this story, Tom is a Slytherin, third year. He is still Lord Voldemort, but saner than he was in the series. Try to imagine Tom Riddle when he was still in Hogwarts. This Tom is the same, only more dangerous.  
He hasn't given up on his evil plans, only slowed them down so that he can get going with his other plans to be carried out within Hogwarts. _**

**_As for his appearance, he is just the same version as Diary Tom. If you can imagine him being more handsome than that, well, please go ahead, and well done!_**

 ** _II._** ** _HARRY JAMES POTTER_** ** _  
Harry is in third year, and has the same looks. (CONFESSION : I chose him because he is the best looking out of all the different year Harrys. He will be portrayed in this story throughout with the same handsome face, although he will change slightly; I will mention it.)  
I have altered him a little; in this story, he is more intelligent than in the books._**

 ** _III._** ** _RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY_** ** _  
Ron will be altered a little too, to fit my storyline, but there won't be any major changes._**

 ** _IV._** ** _HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER_** ** _  
Hermione won't be changed much, she's mostly all right for my setting, although there will soon be some surprising changes you might not foresee._**

 ** _V._** ** _NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM_** ** _  
In my story, Neville is not as shy as he is in the series, but everything else is the same. He still loves plants, still loses things, and certainly still cowers at the sight of Snape. He will not be assuming leadership, but will be more social than he was._**

 ** _VI._** ** _SEVERUS SNAPE  
_** ** _Severus will still be our snarky old Potions master, but more open-minded. He plays a major part in the story, and is a known Death Eater to Tom and Dumbledore only._**

 ** _VII._** ** _ROMILDA VANE  
_** ** _In the books, she is a year below Harry, but in my story, she is in the same year as Harry. Those who dislike her, don't worry, her existence in my story is almost nothing._**

 ** _VIII._** ** _PERCY WEASLEY_** ** _  
Percy will not be the git he was in the books. He will maybe still support the Ministry, but will not turn on his family._**

 ** _IX._** ** _LUNA LOVEGOOD_** ** _  
Luna will be basically the same character, but in Harry's year instead of the year below._**

 ** _X._** ** _DRACO MALFOY_** ** _  
He will be a little more handsome than he was in the third movie, and he will also be less of an arrogant idiot through the story._**

 ** _XI._** ** _DOBBY_** ** _  
Here, Dobby is free from the Malfoys, and a free elf altogether. He works at Hogwarts for the want of something to do. If Harry calls, he will answer out of friendship, not slavery._**

 ** _I've also done loads of research about Harry Potter, as to not make up things. Some phrases have been taken directly from the movie or book. If you can identify them, a hundred points to your House!_**

* * *

Harry hurried along, not wanting to miss lunch. However something happened to stop him. Again.

There was a figure on the floor of the corridor, seated and leaning against the wall. Harry slowed down, wondering if they were ill. As he walked closer, he realized it was a girl. When he saw more of her, he slowed more, and eventually came to a stop in front of her.

"Hello…" he said tentatively. The girl, who, up to now, had been examining what looked like a magazine, looked up at him and smiled.

The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of Butterbeer caps, or that she was reading the magazine upside down.

Her hair was a soft blonde, and her eyes a baby blue – or a very soft blue–grey, he couldn't tell. Her eyebrows were pale, and her whole visage was odd, but somehow, Harry thought her to be pretty.

And something about her reassured him. She was a calming presence, and Harry felt like he had known her all his life, and that he trusted her implicitly.

"Are you all right?" he asked, when the girl didn't speak.

"I'm rather bothered by some Gulping Plimpies at the moment, but other than that, I feel all right."

Harry paused, wondering if he heard correctly. Gulping _what_? "Er…gulping what?"

"Gulping Plimpies," she repeated, nodding seriously. "The Plimpy is a small round fish with two legs ending in webbed feet. It lives in deep lakes, and feeds on water snails."

Harry was starting feel worried. Had she been jinxed?

"Don't look so worried," Luna said, standing up and brushing her skirt off. " The Plimpy is not dangerous, but will nibble on the feet and clothing of unsuspecting swimmers."

"Um, okay, thanks for the warning…" Harry said, smiling hesitantly. But he was beginning to like her more and more, for no reason at all. "Uh…what's your name?"

"Luna Lovegood. You're Harry."

Again Harry felt warmed by her thoughtfulness of not adding 'Potter'.

"Yes, that's me. Are you new to Hogwarts?" He noted the Ravenclaw crest on her robes.

"Yes, I arrived a week ago. You see, I was home-schooled by Daddy for so long, but he wanted me to come here and see the children…and make friends with the Crumple–Horned Snorkacks."

"Crumple–Horned… never mind. So, Luna, which year are you in?"

"Third, like you. Lady Fate was very kind to make us meet."

Harry grinned. He liked her immensely already. "Yeah, definitely. Huh. It's weird, though. I feel like we've known each other for ages… Hey, are you coming to lunch? I was on my way to the hall, do you want to come with me?"

Luna tucked away her magazine and beamed up at him. "Thank you. I hope there's pudding."

Harry grinned. He felt he would be seeing much of Luna in the future. "Yeah, maybe. I'd like to meet up again, if you don't mind. We're friends now, right?" He didn't even need her smile of confirmation to know that they had become good friends in that brief while.

Life was funny in that way.

.

* * *

Harry inwardly smiled when Ron discreetly stretched out next to him. This particular Charms lesson was a bit on the boring side since Flitwick had decided to delve deep into some theory behind a spell they had learned this term.

Around him, most of the Gryffindors were looking bored too, with the exception of Hermione who was busily scribbling down everything Professor Flitwick was saying.

The Slytherins on the opposite side of the room looked aloof as always. Unable to help himself, Harry's gaze slid to Tom, seated by himself near the back, looking calm and cool, and ignoring the glances most of the girls were throwing him.

But like always, Tom knew when Harry was looking at him, as his eyes shifted from Flitwick to Harry, and a tiny smirk lifted the corner of his lips. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to his work, trying to pay attention to Flitwick's words.

"…Now, can anyone tell me if there are any uses of the Lumos charm connected to Divination?"

The pupils blinked as they returned to a more alert state. Hermione's hand unsurprisingly shot into the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"There is no use of the Lumos charm connected to Divination, professor. However, there are other –"

"Wrong."

For some reason, everyone in the class swiveled around to see Tom when he spoke.

Even Flitwick was waiting for him to continue.

Hermione first smiled an odd flushed smile at Tom before she realized what he had said.

"Wrong?" she echoed. "What are you talking about?"

Tom flicked an uninterested glance at her. "Your answer is wrong. There _is_ a use of the Lumos charm in Divination."

"There is not," Hermione started impatiently, but Tom cut her off.

"There is, and you don't know it, perhaps. The wand–lighting charm duo is quite commonly used to charge crystal balls with light. And since crystal balls are one of the major aspects of Divination…" he trailed off, allowing the whole class to realize how obvious it was.

By now Hermione was flushed red and scowling. "Well, _you're_ wrong, because the duo charm may look like the Lumos, but it has nothing to do with it!"

Tom sighed delicately. "I'm sure the Charms professor here will agree with me when I say that the lumos duo charm was evolved from the original lumos charm."

"Quite right, Mr. Riddle, and brilliantly reasoned out! Fifteen points to Slytherin!" Flitwick announced.

Ron groaned while all the Slytherins looked pleased, both about the points, as well as Hermione's humiliation. Harry looked back at Tom and gave him a displeased look which Tom returned with an innocent smile.

Hermione had bent her head over her parchment, and didn't raise her head once during the rest of the lesson.

.

* * *

When Charms was over, Harry caught up with Tom.

"That was mean," he told him shortly. "You shouldn't have done it."

Tom sighed. "I have no idea –"

"Don't play dumb! Why did you have to humiliate Hermione like that?"

"I didn't. I was merely answering Flitwick's question. No," he interrupted as Harry opened his mouth, "You're thinking is biased in this matter. You're angry because she is your friend."

"But you _don't_ understand. Hermione doesn't like to be disagreed with, and she certainly doesn't like being proved wrong…"

Tom looked over at Harry. "It seems to me that you don't want her to feel upset, so you're downplaying your intelligence. Am I right?" Ignoring Harry's snort, he continued, "Besides, as her friend, you should call her attention to her faults instead of being too nervous to point them out."

Harry paused, very much feeling that Tom was right. He groaned "Whatever" and ran a hand through his hair. "I mean…I'm not saying that…Look, she's the smartest witch in our year. And I think it's important to her, being a muggleborn and all that. Some people look down on her…This is the only way she has to prove herself."

Tom waved a dismissive hand. "I don't think she's smart. Memorizing books isn't a sign of real intelligence. When it comes to thinking and understanding reality…that's what matters."

Harry exhaled. Whatever he said, he couldn't deny that _Tom's_ intelligence outshone everyone else's. Even Dumbledore's, and definitely Hermione's.

Tom smirked as if he knew what Harry was thinking.

" ** _See you later, Harry_** ," he hissed.

What a conceited bastard.

.

* * *

Ron cast a helpless glance towards Harry, who returned it with an equally frustrated one. In front of them, Hermione was jabbing the Charms textbook crossly.

"I can't _believe_ the _nerve_ of Tom Riddle! He must probably have been tutored by someone good. He was so rude! Ugh! Besides–"

"Hey, calm down, Hermione," Ron tried, "Don't think about that Slytherin arsehole anymore. He was just showing off–"

"Just because he's obviously rich and not a muggleborn–"

"Hermione! Don't make this about blood purity," Harry protested.

"I'm not! It's just, …who's side are you on anyway, Harry?"

Groaning, Harry leaned back on his chair. "Can't we just forget about this? You're smart, don't think we know that, okay? Come on, Hermione. What happened in class today was just a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. And Tom clearly knew what he was talking about. He's pretty smart. But you shouldn't think about that…"

Hermione jumped to her feet in a rage. "See? You're _defending_ him! He humiliated me, and you're defending him! I can't believe you!" She snatched up her things and stalked away before Harry could say another word.

Ron gave him an incredulous look before hurrying after her.

Harry let his forehead hit the table.

.

* * *

The next morning, Harry paused at the doors of the Great Hall. Hermione was still mad at him, and although Ron wasn't, he was still trying to soothe Hermione.

He peeked towards the Gryffindor table where his friends were already seated. Hermione's face was still a bit pinched, even though Ron seemed to be trying to tell a joke or something to make her laugh.

Sighing, Harry decided to give her some more time to cool off. Maybe he could just skip breakfast–

"Don't even think about it."

Harry jumped as someone spoke in his ear. He turned. "Good morning to you _too_ , Tom. And don't even think about what?"

"Skipping breakfast." Tom was leveling a very flat gaze at him.

Harry's mouth dropped open. " _How_ did you…"

"I can read you pretty easily. You were going to skip breakfast. Any reason why?"

Harry scowled. "It's _your_ entire fault. Don't look at me like that. What? It _is_." At Tom's rising eyebrow, he said, "Hermione was pretty upset about yesterday's incident. And now she's mad at _me_ as well because I was defending _you_ , and I'm trying to give her some time to calm down."

"You _defended_ _me_?" Tom asked with a smug smile. "Why, Harry, I'm so flattered!"

"Shut up."

Tom just snagged his elbow and pulled him inside over to…

"Why are we sitting at the _Ravenclaw_ table?"

Tom just looked at him like he was an idiot. "Well, you're obviously uncomfortable to sit at the Gryffindor table, and I doubt you'll be happy sitting at the Slytherin table with me, so Ravenclaw it is."

"Why not Hufflepuff?"

Tom gave Harry a very unimpressed glance.

Harry grinned. Maybe he wouldn't be having an awkward day after all.

He was unaware of the gaze from blue bespectacled eyes at the centre of the head table.

Or the black onyx eyes that stayed trained on him silently.

.

* * *

 ** _Reviews please!_**


	16. Chapter 16 - An Error in Judgment

_**Hey readers! Here's another chapter! As usual, review after reading!**_

.

* * *

By the time Care of Magical Creatures was over, Hermione had cooled down enough to apologize to Harry.

"…I was just angry, and when you spoke, I just…blew up…"

Harry patted her shoulder. "Hey, it's alright, Hermione. Forget it."

Hermione gave a short grin. "Yeah. I mean, as if you'd ever defend Riddle – a Slytherin!"

Harry's own smile dimmed a bit. "Yeah, Slytherin. Huh."

Ron just looked relieved that the tension was over. "Okay, let's get back to the common room. This was the last lesson for today, right? Come on, let's have a game of chess or something."

Harry shook his head. "You guys go on. I'd like to talk to Hagrid a little. I'll come up soon."

The other two shrugged and nodded, and walked off. Harry turned and approached Hagrid who was clearing up some of what they'd been using today, but then Harry tripped over something and crashed into a hard chest.

They both went down in a tangle of limbs, and Harry nearly bit his own tongue when his chin hit the other person's ribs hard. The two ended up with Harry sprawled on top of whoever it was. Mercifully, his glasses stayed on his nose.

Ever so slowly, he raised his head to take a look at who he was currently squashing.

Slytherin green and silver tie, narrow chin, grey eyes, and blond hair.

Draco Malfoy stared up at him with undisguised annoyance and something else flickering in his eyes.

Harry stared down. Malfoy's cheeks tinged a pale pink.

"Get off me, Potter!" he snapped, and Harry blinked before rolling off hurriedly, murmuring apologies.

"Sorry, are you hurt? Here, let me…" he extended his hand which Malfoy dismissed with a disdainful sniff. Harry dropped his hand, but was still berating himself mentally for not looking where he was going. "Are you alright?" he asked again, while Crabbe and Goyle gathered Malfoy's scattered things.

"I would be better if you could see even with your glasses on!" he hissed, for some strange reason seeming on edge.

"I tripped, okay?" Harry protested. "You're acting as if I knocked you over on purpose!"

Snorting, Malfoy gave him a weird scrutinizing once over, and then pushed past him without another word. His goons hurried after him, each sending nasty looks towards Harry who pretended not to see. He concentrated on brushing off the dust.

"Yeh all righ' there, Harry?" Hagrid's voice hailed him, and he looked up with a grin.

"Sure, Hagrid, just knocked into someone…" He placed his bag on a bench and joined Hagrid. "How are you doing?"

"Ah, much better, now that Profess'r Dumbledore told me he saved Buckbeak…or rather yeh an' yer friends did…" Hagrid peered down at Harry. "Though i' beats me how yer kids managed to take Buckbeak away from righ' und'r the nose of the Minister for Magic 'imself!"

Grinning sheepishly, Harry shrugged. "We didn't want Buckbeak to die either. And Professor Dumbledore distracted Fudge long enough for us to smuggle Buckbeak away."

They talked about this and that for a while. Harry was enjoying the chance to talk to someone without being careful about what he was saying, something he was getting more and more used to.

"By the way, Harry, I won't be at Hogwarts for a li'le while," Hagrid said, hefting a giant log onto his shoulder. "Going ter see me brother, yeh see."

"Brother?" echoed Harry. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"Ah well, half–brother, really. He's a giant, yeh know, I can't 'ave 'im aroun' here, now when I'm teaching classes…"

Harry's eyebrows rose. "So, uh, where does your brother live? In the Forbidden Forest?"

"That's right. Name's Grawp, me brother's."

"Oh…will you be gone for long? What about our classes?"

"Profess'r Dumbledore gave me time off, he did, but I'll be back in a couple o' weeks, don't yeh worry." Hagrid smiled down at Harry, who smiled back, even with a healthy dose of concern in his eyes.

 _I really hope Grawp is as gentle as Hagrid is…being a giant and all…._

.

* * *

Harry wandered through the nearly empty library. Evening had fallen, and many of the students who had been working in the library had left some time ago.

Except one.

"Hello _Harry_ …"

Harry held in a sigh. "Do you patrol the library or something?" Tom strolled up to him.

"Maybe I should ask that of you. I've seen you here more and more often. Nice to see you taking your studies more seriously."

Snorting, Harry tried to move past Tom, to be stopped by a strong hand gripping his arm.

"Where were you all this time?" Tom questioned, his eyes flashing crimson. Harry wasn't intimidated.

"Out," he answered, jutting out his chin. "Talking with Hagrid."

Tom sneered and released his arm. "I doubt it was stimulating conversation. Of course, trying to make others feel better is part of your daily routine, isn't it? Even if it's a pathetic brainless half–human oaf–"

 _Crack_.

Harry slowly lowered his right hand, feeling adrenaline pump through him at a dizzying pace.

 _What did I just do?_

He had just backhanded Lord Voldemort with a book.

 _Well done, Harry!_

He dropped the book onto a nearby table and slowly raised his eyes to meet Tom's headlong.

Glittering rubies met smoldering emeralds.

Somehow, Harry's indignation overruled his common sense and self–preservation when his mouth opened. "Don't you dare insult my friends like that! Hagrid is kind and friendly and just _good_ … which is more than I can say of you!"

Tom eyed Harry some more, then slowly smiled. "Don't care about others so much, Harry. You might put them in danger."

Harry swallowed. "Was that a threat?"

"No." Tom walked past him, practically radiating coldness. "A mere _warning_."

.

* * *

"Ron!"

"Yeah yeah, give me five minutes."

…

"Ron!"

"Just ten minutes more…"

Harry groaned. "You said you needed only five minutes! Why in Godric's name do you leave your homework for the last minute anyway?" He examined the parchment that Ron's red head was bent over, scribbling busily. "All right, we have no time for breakfast. At this rate, we'll even be late for Transfiguration!"

"Done!" Ron yelled in a relieved voice, and scrambled off the couch and gathered up his things. "Come on, mate, we'll make it in time if we run for it."

But when they had exited the common room and turned towards the staircases, there was a large crowd gathered around there. _Funny, considering there's less than five minutes for classes to start._

Students milled around with worried and shocked faces, and Harry and Ron heard a familiar Scottish accent rise above the rumbling of the voices. "Return to your respective classrooms, immediately! Move along, don't just stand there…Prefects!"

Curious, Harry and Ron pushed through to the front of the gathered students.

There, on the floor, in an unconscious heap, lay Colin Creevey.

Harry drew in a sharp breath. There were a few bloodstains on his uniform, and Madame Pomfrey was already casting diagnostic spells so that they could move him to the hospital wing.

"What happened to him?" he questioned Susan Bones, who was standing right next to him.

"They're saying he fell off a moving staircase…past two floors!"

Harry gulped as he looked back at Colin's body twitching with each spell cast. "Will he be okay?"

Ron, from Harry's other side said, "Should be. But strange…how did he fall over the railing?"

"Maybe he missed his footing when he was getting onto the stairs?" Susan suggested.

Suddenly, yet slowly, Harry looked over his shoulder when his instincts told him to…

Tom was leaning against the wall, and looking at Colin's body.

 _Oh Merlin…._

A whirlwind of shock and horror pervaded Harry's head.

 _Tom had done this._

He knew it, deep down, he knew it with absolute certainty, and it only became worse when Tom's eyes shifted from his victim to Harry's pale face, and Harry was seized by an urge to scream ' _Murderer!_ ' at him right in front of everybody.

His heart was pounding. Their eyes locked, and _why_ didn't anyone see the crimson tint to them? Why did nobody see the small smile at the corner of his mouth? Why did nobody notice the way he acted, as if he had _won_ something over Harry…

Harry's eyes tore away from Tom's incessant gaze with difficulty and drifted down to his cheek…where he had hit Tom yesterday….and then the torrent came crashing down on him, yes yes _yes_ , he knew what happened and why and this was nothing but _revenge_ , revenge for his _thoughtless_ and _reckless_ actions yesterday, and that meant that…

 _Harry_ was responsible for Colin's accident.

Harry was at fault.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

"Hey Harry, you all right there, mate?"

In front, Colin was levitated onto a stretcher and taken away to the hospital wing.

Taking a deep breath, "Sure. I'm okay. Let's just get to class now… I'm only a little shocked."

Then why did it feel like he had lost something important?

He steadfastly didn't look at Tom when Ron steered him past, but he knew that Tom saw his brimming eyes when something akin to surprise and curiosity flashed in those steel–blue–silver orbs.

.

* * *

Really, he should have expected this, Harry thought when he found his way blocked by a grim figure in black.

"Come, Potter," was all Snape said before he put his hand on Harry's shoulder firmly and pushed him through the thinning crowd. Harry just walked on, already knowing where they would stop.

The headmaster's office.

"Good morning, Harry. Lemon drop?"

"I'm not sure whether it's in fact a good morning, professor…and no, thank you."

Sinking into one of the armchairs in front of Dumbledore's table, he put his head in his hands. He could _feel_ Snape's eyes boring holes into his skull, from where he stood nearby.

"What happened, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry knew with some relief that they _knew_ it was Tom, and he didn't have to suffer through explanations. Yet…

"It was my fault." His voice was muffled through his hands, but they both heard him.

"What do you mean, Potter? What on earth did you do?"

"I…" his voice failed him, and he could hardly bring himself to look up into Dumbledore's comforting face, or even Snape's glowering one. "It was revenge."

"Revenge for what?"

"Harry, my boy, you'd better start at the beginning," Dumbledore said gently. "And whatever happened, it undoubtedly was not your fault."

Harry groaned to himself. Brilliant. His story was not going to go down well, especially with the snarky Potions master in the room. His eyes flickered to Snape and back to the floor between his feet.

"…Yesterday…we were in the library…I mean, he was there, and I'd just come in, and he asked me where I was, and I told him I was outside talking with Hagrid, because that's where I really was – and it's not really his business where I was and what I was doing, is it?" He glanced up to see both men regarding him perplexedly, and sighed and continued. "And then he started _insulting_ Hagrid, and I got so mad…I just…snapped…–"

"And?" Snape was snapping too.

"And…I _may_ or may _not_ have hithimonhisstupidface…"

"What?"

Harry sat up straight. "I said I backhanded him. With a book."

Silence.

Then a scandalized sound came from Snape. "Potter, you imbecile!"

Harry bit his lip and looked towards Dumbledore, who, to his surprise, was sporting a rather amused twinkle in his blue eyes.

Harry shrugged defensively. "Well, I'd like to think he deserved it. He can be a git sometimes…"

"Now now, Harry, language." Dumbledore butted in, his voice seeming to hold an entertained undertone. "From what you've told me, it seems to me that your temper merely got out of hand, it happens to us all. But," he continued as Harry sobered up, "Mr. Creevey's accident was an unfortunate repercussion, one I would like to see not repeated. Ensuring that is up to you, Harry."

Harry sighed again. "I've got to apologize to him, right?"

Dumbledore looked at him kindly. "That is entirely your choice to make, Harry. I do realize the extremity of the burden I've placed upon your shoulders, but all this is for the Greater Good."

* * *

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 ** _Poor Colin...Please leave a review!_**


	17. Chapter 17 - Intimacy Between Enemies

_**Harry confronts Tom! Read on to find out how! Then review!**_

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Harry stood besides Colin's bed in the infirmary. He was relieved to know there was no lasting damage to the younger boy, as Madame Pomfrey had reassured him earlier.

"Oh yes, he has regained consciousness, and apart from a bump on his head, and a few bruises here and there, everything else is healed. He'll be fine by tomorrow."

Colin seemed to be asleep, so Harry fidgeted, unwilling to wake him up. In the end, he softly called Colin's name, and was a bit surprised when his eyes immediately flew open.

"Harry Potter!"

 _Here we go…_ "Hey Colin," Harry gave a small grin. "Were you asleep? Did I wake you?"

"Oh no, I've always been a light sleeper, you know? I wake up at all times, sometimes at night I find it hard to fall asleep because of all those different night sounds, you know what I mean, right Harry? Even at home I'd wake up early, and sometimes my window would keep me awake, it creaks a little when I leave it open on warm nights. And then there's my mother, she's a light sleeper too, like me, and it comes jolly useful when my dad has to wake up at the crack of dawn – he's a milkman – and he doesn't like to rise early and bright, so it's usually my mother who kicks him out of bed each morning, and it does get a bit annoying when it's the holidays because when I want to sleep in she won't let us. And my brother is also a bit distracting, he shares my room, you see, and some days he snores like a seal whistling or something, so I'm trying to make my parents let me move into the guest room – I mean, what's the point of having a guest room without any guests actually staying over? Stupid, right?"

Harry blinked in astonishment, feeling as if it had been raining heavily and then had suddenly stopped. He also felt obliged to take a breath for Colin since he didn't seem to have drawn a single breath during his high speed talking. Whew!

"…Uh…yeah, right. So, how are you feeling?"

"Oh, Madame Pomfrey fixed me up all right. See, I've got a bruised elbow, and my ankle is a bit weak, but thank the stars, nothing was permanent. So I'll be alright!"

Harry smiled, albeit weakly. "I'm really sorry about what happened, Colin. Really." He sank into a chair by the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, locking his fingers together.

Colin smiled back, looking faintly puzzled. "It's okay, it wasn't your fault, Harry."

Harry hid a grimace. "What er… exactly happened, Colin?"

"Well, I was going to our first lesson – that's Charms – and I was just stepping onto the staircase…and the next thing I knew, I was flat on the floor and my nose was broken. I bet I missed the first step."

"But didn't you see the staircase had moved?" Harry questioned, and Colin grinned and shook his head ruefully.

"No. You see, I was examining my camera, and I really wasn't looking where I put my feet." He sighed longingly. "I suppose that examining it won't help now…" As he spoke, he retrieved an object from the other side of the bed.

Harry stared at it with rising guilt. The camera that Colin so eagerly carried around was in pieces.

"I don't think dad will buy me another….they're quite expensive…"

"Hey…" he patted Colin's shoulder. "I'll pitch in if he refuses, okay? How does that sound?"

Colin's eyes went wide as saucers. "Really?" he gaped. "Wow! Thank you so much! I'll take lots of pictures of you!"

"Uh, Colin, that's something I wanted to tell you," Harry started, deciding this was a good time as any to address this issue. "I'd be glad if you didn't take pictures of me so much."

"But – but you're Harry Potter! You're famous!"

Harry sighed, a bit for show. "You see, Colin, my life's being dragged out into newspapers and books and things, and I wish people would stop disregarding my privacy. I want to finish my education, and I really don't want to become a figurehead. So…although your photos are nice, I'd rather not be photographed…Can you understand what I'm telling you?"

Colin nodded. "Yes, I understand. Don't worry, I won't bother you again. And I'm sorry for not thinking about your privacy…"

Smiling in relief, Harry said, "No problem. But you know, since you like photography so much, why don't you focus on Hogwarts herself? It's beautiful, you know, so many wonders all over…"

Colin listened, eagerly drinking up each word.

After assuring him that his camera would be replaced, Harry left the Hospital wing. He had no more classes today, but there was some Ancient Runes homework he had to finish. He paused with his legs ready to walk back to the common room.

No, there was something more important than the homework. He had to speak to someone as soon as possible.

.

Harry finally found Tom on the viaduct, gazing down at the lake.

"Hey." Harry came to a stop beside Tom. "I need to talk with you."

Tom half–turned. Momentarily, Harry was distracted by his face – one side illuminated by the setting sun, and the other shrouded in darkness. Tom looked like something ethereal.

Harry shook himself out of his trance. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Tom's eyebrows twitched. "About hitting you. Yesterday."

"With a book."

"With a book, yeah. Sorry. I just got angry when you insulted Hagrid."

"How curious," murmured Tom, his gaze sweeping over Harry. "I was so convinced that you wanted to yell at me. Instead, here you are, apologizing to me…"

"Don't get me wrong, I do want to yell at you, but I needed to apologize first. Why didn't you just hit me back or something, why did you have to take your anger out on Colin?"

"He was a perfect target," Tom said nonchalantly, "always singing your praises and all… Besides, he annoyed you on some occasions, didn't he?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Are you reading my mind?" he demanded.

"No, I'm reading your emotions."

"What…How can you do _that_?"

"I think you already know, Harry." Tom's eyes bore into Harry's ones. " _It's_ _the connection between us_."

.

Harry frowned, but even as he pondered over Tom's words, he _understood_.

Ever since he could comprehend things, he had been unconsciously aware of a space or point within his mind where he felt there was someone else with him. As the years passed, he had dismissed it as one of those things that just _happened_. Now, when he gently prodded at the _link_ , he felt foreign emotions – _amusement_ and _satisfaction_. With a jolt, he realized they were _Tom's_ emotions.

' _Curious, isn't it?_ '

Harry startled again. Tom had spoken mentally to him!

' _You can say that again_ ' he returned, and felt Tom's amusement increase.

"Wow!" Harry gasped. "I can feel you! I mean, I can feel your emotions…and what did you just do? Telepathy?"

Tom grinned disturbingly. "That's what Muggles call it. However, it isn't so simple." He leaned closer to Harry. "But what you felt about me just now, that isn't new. You've been subconsciously assessing my emotions ever since we met. You realized you've been doing it only now."

"But…can you feel my emotions?" Harry questioned.

"Like a frothy overflowing mug of liquid." He shook his head in repugnance. "So many emotions all the time…"

"You can feel _everything_?"

"Indeed. For example, now, I know that you're feeling a little fear as well as much curiosity about our link. Beneath that, you're angry at yourself for losing your temper, and at me for hurting the Gryffindor. You're also upset about what happened to him."

 _Damn_. It wasn't until he heard a chuckle that he flushed and realized that he had said the last out loud. "So…is this normal?" he asked Tom. "This link between us? I've never heard of something like this before."

To his surprise, Tom admitted, "Nor have I. This is completely out of anyone's imagination."

"But you have a theory, don't you?"

Tom looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Interesting. You're already extremely well–attuned to our bond. As a matter of fact, I do have a theory. I suspect this bond was caused by the rebounded Killing curse twelve years ago. That's the only plausible explanation."

"M-hm…Then why is it so strong and noticeable _now_?" Harry asked, studying Tom.

He held up two slender fingers. "One, with awareness of the bond, it can only grow stronger. Two, our close proximity strengthens it as well."

"I suppose that makes sense," Harry nodded before his eyes widened. "Tom, do you think Dumbledore knows about this link?"

"Doubtful. I sincerely hope not."

Harry agreed privately. He wasn't sure Dumbledore would understand.

Something else occurred to him, and he clasped his fingers together nervously. "Don't you think it's a bit…Doesn't this feel rather…"

"Yes?" Tom prompted.

Colour rose in Harry's cheeks. "…Intimate?"

Tom smiled slowly. "Nobody, not even the most passionate _lovers_ can get any more intimate than this, Harry _darling_ …" Tom's hand rose and hovered just above his scar. Harry barely held in a flinch. "What is it, Harry?"

"I – sorry. Every time you come even close to me, my scar bursts into pain…"

Very gradually, Tom brought his fingertips to rest on Harry's scar. "But you are not in pain now, am I right?"

"Yeah. I don't understand. Is this connected to your emotions as well?"

Tom looked pensive. Then he withdrew his fingers…and brought them back to press against the lightning bolt shaped scar.

 _Pain._

Harry crumpled to his knees with a faint cry. His head was spinning, and his vision had black spots dancing at the edges. The throbbing waves of agony from his scar were unbearable–

Tom bent down in front of him. His fingers softly traced the scar, and slowly, soothing wave after soothing wave overtook Harry, clearing the fog of pain.

When he came to, he was shaking, leaning on Tom's shoulder, and he had one strong arm firmly around him, and they were both leaning against the side of the viaduct.

He let out a soft mix of a groan and moan. "Ugh…why did you have to do that? Ow…."

"Did it hurt a lot?" Tom asked, and Harry pried his eyes open to glare at him.

"Imagine yourself getting chewed up by a troll and then spat back out. That's what it felt like."

"I did not expect it to hit you so hard."

"What did you do?" Harry struggled to get back up on his feet.

"You tell me."

Sighing, Harry considered the bond. "Wait…did you sort of project your anger to me?"

"Precisely. This explains it somewhat."

"Right…" Then Harry glanced up at the side of Tom's face. It was smooth and unmarred, but he couldn't help but think that Tom had covered it up with magic.

"Does it hurt? Your cheek?" he blurted out. Tom's lips curled into a smug smile.

"Harry, you care about me after all!"

"Oh shut up!"

.

 ** _What do you think? Leave reviews!_**


	18. Chapter 18 - Servant, Spy or Slytherin?

_**Review! Review! Review!**_

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* * *

"I can't see if we're learning anything useful here," Harry whispered to Ron.

"Doesn't matter. At least we don't have loads of difficult homework to do. All we need is a good imagination."

Harry blew out a frustrated breath. They were in Divination, and Professor Trelawney was swaying and instructing the nearby students to reach into themselves and " _discover their inner eye_ ".

"It was smart of Hermione to skip this class," Harry muttered. "How are we supposed to sit for the OWLs if this tosh is all we learn here?"

"Well…we have Hermione…" Ron said, pushing his head off the table. "I'll admit it though, Trelawney gives me the creeps sometimes. Remember that time when she claimed that I was ' _in the beyond_ '? She made it sound as if I was dead!" 

As if she heard Ron's remark, Trelawney swayed over to their table. "Now, children, grasp the power you possess, see beyond what others see!" Ron groaned softly beside him. Then Trelawney turned to Harry, blinking at him through her thick glasses.

"Oh….dear boy….how terrible this must be for your young heart…. _Death_ follows at your heels, child…"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, seeing crossly that most of the class was eagerly listening to Trelawney.

The professor tapped her temple with one spindly finger. "I have seen it all, my dear boy. The _darkness_ looms over you, waiting to engulf you…oh, how terrible indeed! Your end is nigh, Harry Potter! Your death is but a hairsbreadth away!" She shook her frizzy hair and suddenly smiled at him.

The class erupted in whispers, and the ones closest to Harry leaned a bit away. Trelawney moved away, clearly pleased to have caused such a sensation.

Ron huffed. "Don't mind her, Harry. ' _Your end is nigh!_ ' Ha! Sounds like something out of a knight's tale!"

"Yeah…" Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. He hated Trelawney's ramblings – who on earth wanted to hear their death to be prophesied weekly! "I'm seriously considering dropping this class now. Self–studying would be way better."

.

* * *

When the class ended, Harry was fed up with some of the Gryffindors sneaking wary glances at him. He couldn't get away from the class fast enough. But Ron caught his arm.

"Hey mate, where are you going? It's a free period."

"I'm going to the library, I've got some Astronomy research to do. And I told Tom I'll meet him there after Divination anyway."

Ron scowled. "Tom Riddle again? Harry, he's a Slytherin! Why are you always hanging around with him?!" He crossed his arms. "I mean, have you seen yourself? The two of you are always with each other these days! Just because the girls are drooling over him doesn't mean that he's a good guy. Slytherins never are!"

Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "So if I was in Slytherin, you'd think the same of me?"

Ron looked at him in exasperation. "Well, you're _not_ Slytherin!"

"Look, I've got to go." Harry muttered and fled, not wanting to hear anymore harsh words from Ron, but well aware of the irate gaze on his back.

.

* * *

A few days later, Harry was flinging spell after spell at a target, trying to work off the tension with Ron.

He was in the Room of Requirement. He had discovered it when he needed a place where he could be alone and not seen or heard, about a week ago.

The Come and Go room, as the elves called it, was one of the best things about Hogwarts, Harry decided. He could come here to practice, or even just spend some quiet reading time. Nobody knew about this room, and he hadn't even told his friends, because he wanted a place to be by himself sometimes. And this was perfect. He had everything he needed, and nobody would find him here.

He paused for a moment to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. Ever since he had come across a book of jinxes and hexes, he had realized that his knowledge was very inadequate. And compared to others, he was even more at a disadvantage, since he was Muggle–raised. So he decided to learn by himself – there were plenty of books in the library, after all, and this room was perfect for him to practice dueling. What with Lord Voldemort back and alive, he wasn't going to be unprepared. He was the Boy Who Lived, a target for Voldemort's followers – although he wasn't sure that they posed a danger to him with Tom here – and he had to learn to hold his own in a fight, and defend himself.

He was pleased to find that dueling came easily to him. He had already learnt a good number of useful offensive and defensive spells, and the room provided him with targets to practice them on.

In addition to learning dueling skills, he had also begun reading up on the subject of the Wizarding world in general. Hermione would be flabbergasted if she knew. And to add to that, Harry had also started reading through all his books, starting from his first year stack. He could have kicked himself for not paying attention back then, but then again, he supposed he had been too busy, what with running after the Philosopher's Stone in first year, and then after the basilisk in second year, and then after – or from – Sirius this year.

Speaking of which, he wondered how Sirius was doing. It must be getting lonely in there with only grumpy old Kreacher for company.

.

* * *

Sometime later, after Harry had taken a shower he met up with Tom in a corner of the courtyard. Even before he got within hearing distance, Harry knew he was annoyed. Their link was resonating with his annoyance from Tom's end.

It was a bit weird, Harry supposed. Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter, enemies, but brought closer together than anyone could possibly imagine by a backfired Unforgivable. They were more and more in tune with each other, and Harry strongly suspected that Tom was using it in more ways than feeling each other's emotions. Talking mentally, reading emotions, and even understanding each other so uncannily accurately…although that last was just as easy without using the bond. They had even discovered that the link was possible to be used for communication through distances – though they didn't know the limit – with their full concentration.

"Where were you?" Tom asked, and Harry shrugged.

"Took a shower. Why, missed me? Aww, how cute!"

"Don't put your foot there."

Tom and Harry both spun around, wands at the ready, and came face to face with Luna.

"Hello Luna!" Harry greeted her with a bright smile while he immediately stowed away his wand. Tom looked at her and then at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

Harry wasn't sure whether it was because Tom had noticed the butterbeer cork necklace, or her radish earrings.

"Tom, this is Luna Lovegood, and Luna, this is Tom Riddle." He tried not to laugh out loud as Luna gazed at Tom's shoes with a serious expression.

"Yes, you are a riddle," she finally said in her dreamy voice. Harry stiffened, and noticed Tom fingering his wand in his pocket. Did Luna know who he was?

She straightened up, now looking a little relieved. "You almost stepped on a Nargle there," she told Tom. Harry shot him a heavy glare, as Tom opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her off cuttingly.

"But didn't you say once that they were troublemakers?" he asked, referring to a conversation they had had a few days ago.

"Yes, but that is no reason to hurt it. It is in their nature to cause trouble, but that doesn't warrant their death." This time, she looked right into Tom's eyes, and Harry suddenly wondered if she was talking to the Dark Lord, or to the Slytherin student. By Tom's facial expression, he saw that Tom probably was thinking along the same lines as he was.

Then suddenly Luna hopped up and smiled. "Just remember to stay away from the mistletoe. Bye, Harry! Don't forget to drink orange juice." To Tom she said, "You must smile more." The two boys stared after as she skipped off.

"Well, she's got a point…" Harry said after a bemused pause. "You almost never smile."

"She's crazy." was Tom's answer.

Harry frowned slightly. "No, she's not. She's a great person! I know that her friends call her 'Loony' and I think they tease her badly, but she never gets angry. She's different, but I think she's wonderful."

Tom glanced at him. "Is that infatuation I detect?"

Harry ignored him.

.

* * *

By Saturday, Ron and Harry were back to normal and were walking out into the courtyard with Hermione.

What happened next was completely out of the blue.

A first year on a broom whizzed over their heads and all three ducked. When Harry straightened up, he noticed a cluster of kids in the middle of the courtyard, pointing towards the broom and calling out something.

"What in the world is he doing?" Hermione said crossly. "They aren't allowed to fly brooms in the courtyard."

Harry had stopped. "I think he's not in control…woah!" This last was said as the boy hit a wall, and his broom got stuck in some old iron bar-like things about thirty feet high. The boy gave a yell and began to slide off.

Wasting no time, Harry grabbed another broom from nearby and flew over to where the boy was. He distractedly noticed the Slytherin crest on him when he helped the boy off the precariously perched broom onto his own.

The two returned to the ground. The whole thing had taken less than fifteen minutes. However, the boy was cradling a broken arm. Harry gently peeled back his sleeve, and decided that he needed to take the kid to the hospital wing.

"Come on, let's get you to Madame Pomfrey," he said, helping the boy to his feet. But the first–year pulled away.

"I don't need your help!" He turned his nose up.

"Clearly you do."

Plastering a sneer on his face – and really, Draco's sneers were unrivalled by these – the Slytherin said, "We don't need help from Gryffindors. Everyone knows that Slytherin is the best House of Hogwarts and Salazar Slytherin's snakes don't associate –"

"…Yeah, yeah, Slytherin boasts of pure blood and all that. But pureblood or not, you need medical attention right now." Harry was a bit annoyed that even the first years went around parroting the blood supremacy propaganda drilled into their heads by their parents. "And for the record, half-bloods and muggleborns are beating purebloods, and the other Houses have outstanding witches and wizards just like Slytherin. So if you want to make a difference, you've got to forget about the 'Slytherin is the greatest' speech and actually make an effort to prove yourself."

The boy blinked up at him, his mouth open.

"You – but…"

"Mr. Potter." Harry turned to find Snape standing behind him. "I'm sure that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley can escort this young student to the hospital wing. Meanwhile, _you_ will join me in my office."

Before Harry could utter another sound, Snape had clamped a firm hand on his shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and steered him away, past Hermione and Ron. He vaguely registered Snape barking out an order that got them moving towards the injured boy, all the while looking over their shoulders at Harry with curious expressions.

Snape forced him to walk in front of him all the way to the dungeons, and only let go of him after they were safely inside his office. Harry turned to watch Snape weaving all sorts of wards at the door. Then Snape turned to him with an unusually serious expression.

Harry was briefly taken aback at this, and glanced at the door again.

"Potter," Snape said, and Harry noticed at once that the derisive undertone that always accompanied Snape's voice whenever he spoke to Harry in class was missing. "I hope you understand that this meeting should stay between the two of us, no matter what."

Harry nodded, not even questioning him, and something like very faint approval flickered in Snape's eyes.

Snape leaned on his desk, and stared at Harry. "In the past weeks, you have been interacting with the Dark Lord a great deal. I myself have spotted you in his company too many times for my comfort."

"But… I wasn't with him that much!" Snape just raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry gestured helplessly. "All right, but I was under the impression that you and Dumb – _Professor_ Dumbledore, all right, wanted me to spend time with him!"

"Not at a risk to your own life, Potter!" Snape growled, raising himself off the table to pace around Harry. "You are spending too much time around him, can't you understand? It is of the utmost importance that you remain cautious around him…"

"I _am_ careful, I'd be stupid not to–"

"You're not being careful enough!" Snape cut in. He returned to his previous position in front of Harry. He looked into Harry's face. "The Dark Lord…is nothing like what might seem to you, Potter. Whatever you might have perceived of him during your time with him… _Nothing is ever as it seems_ , you would do well to remember that."

Harry got the feeling of his stomach twisting strangely, as if Snape was trying to tell him something, something urgent, but not actually saying it.

Was his most hated professor trying to _help_ him?

"….I…I don't think I quite understand, Professor…What is it I should be careful of?"

Frustration flashed over Snape's face for a second. "Use your head! This is the Dark Lord we're talking about! Potter, I'm risking my neck to tell you this: he's a person of many masks. You may think you know him, but you _do not_! And on no account are you to run into danger just because the Headmaster has told you to do something!"

Harry frowned. "Professor, you're talking as if…you know him…well – and anyway, I thought Tom was under an oath to prevent him from harming anyone…oh, wait, he isn't, right? He wouldn't have been able to hurt Colin then."

"It is not as simple as it seems. All you need to understand is that the less you interact with the Dark Lord, the better for you, and those around you."

Harry sighed. "I – you know, I just can't avoid him or something, we have the same classes and er…things…!" He carefully restrained himself from blurting out that their mind link had brought them closer than anyone could ever imagine.

"That is not the point. From what I observe, you seem more than comfortable with him, which is not at all a good sign! Potter, if you don't want to end up badly, you'll forget the Headmaster's ridiculous suggestions and keep away from him."

Blinking, Harry tried to process what Snape just said. Did he or did he not just tell Harry to disobey Dumbledore? What the _hell_?

Then suddenly, three things happened. First, Snape abruptly hunched, gripping his left forearm tightly, hissing. Second, the door blew open and the wards came crashing down. Third, Tom came storming in. With burning red eyes.

Harry instantly knew that the next few hours were going to be extremely unpleasant.

Really, he should just take Trelawney's post. It turned out that he didn't need a crystal ball to see the future – the immediate future at least.

Shit.

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 ** _I do like ending chapters with a cliffhanger. Leave reviews please!_**


	19. Chapter 19 - Lord Voldemort

_**There's something else I would like to know your opinion on; I began to name my chapters, what do you think? And like always, what do you think of the past chapters? Leave reviews!**_

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The muted bang of the door had never sounded so loud, although, Harry suspected, his heart might be beating loud enough to drown out the sound.

There was absolute silence in Snape's office, while the first two occupants stared at the third. Nobody moved, for what seemed to Harry like hours. Then…Snape was bowing his head and murmuring "My lord…" to Tom, who just stood there, looking into Harry's wide green eyes and then into Severus' black ones.

"My my… I do hope I was not interrupting any…how shall I phrase it… _inappropriate_ conduct. Really, Severus, how shocking. And here I thought you despised Harry."

Snape didn't move, and it was unnerving Harry, to see the unflinching scary man now bowing to a dark wizard with the face of an older child.

Then his mind caught up with the words that had flowed out of Tom's mouth. "No!" he said, in a kind of high pitched voice. "We weren't doing anything of the sort!" He glanced at Snape from the corner of his eye, before saying, "I was just asking him about some Potions homework."

Tom took a few steps until he was nose to nose with the Gryffindor. "Is that so? With a good number of wards up around the office? Surely you weren't that interested in your lesson."

Harry jutted his chin up. Knowing he was just digging his own grave, he cleared his throat. "Professor Snape thinks my work isn't up to standard, so uh, I asked him to tutor me in some…er, some lessons."

Tom turned to Snape who was still imitating a wax figure. "How _kind_ of you, Severus. Apart from the fact that you _never_ tutor anyone from Gryffindor, and that Harry's work has been getting better seeing that he is paired with _me_ , your little story is _almost_ believable."

"My lord, I believed he would be a hindrance to your concentration, which is solely the reason I decided to lend my assistance–"

"Silence!" Tom snapped – no, this wasn't _Tom_. Harry drew in a sharp breath as his features changed into a taller, white-skinned figure with neither a nose nor hair, with his dangerous red eyes contrasting starkly. Elegant hands became spidery, nails turned talon-like, and his rather deep and attractive voice changed into a high whisper that sent chills down his spine. Pitch black robes replaced the Slytherin uniform. This was the face of _Lord Voldemort_.

Tom – no, _Voldemort_ turned to Harry. "How do you like the appearance of the Dark Lord, Harry?"

"Absolutely no resemblance to yourself," Harry quipped back. "Except the eyes – sorry, the eye colour. Your human eyes don't have slit-pupils."

Voldemort's lipless mouth stretched into a slow menacing smile. "Brave boy, Harry. But not as smart as I expected. Now you can behold the power of Lord Voldemort – and the amount of mercy he shows to those who go behind his back…which is null!"

"No!" Harry yelled, throwing himself between Snape and Voldemort's now poised yew wand. "Wait! He hasn't done anything!"

"Potter…" Snape hissed out with gritted teeth from behind him, but Harry barreled on.

"I told you, we were going through some lessons, that's all!"

"I don't take being lied to well, Harry," Voldemort said, his furious eyes boring into Snape's over Harry's head. "Stand aside. We shall see how Severus admits to the truth after a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse."

"What – Cruciatus curse?" Harry questioned, his heart thumping.

He didn't like the glee he felt from Voldemort's side of the link.

"The Cruciatus curse…the curse of torture. You know of the Unforgivables, do you not, Harry?" Bone-white, bony fingers caressed the yew wand. "Upon casting, the victim is subjected to the greatest agony one can conceive. Even the strongest man is reduced to weeping at my feet. Imagine the pain, Harry… Your _helpful_ professor might be able to describe it more in detail after some time under my wand." The sibilant hissing when he pronounced the ' _s'_ made everything more eerie.

Harry took a deep breath. "Stop." He wetted his lips. "You're going to torture Snape because you think he betrayed you, right?" He was aware of the two intense gazes on him. "Well, you're wrong. It wasn't Snape who betrayed you. It was me."

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* * *

Voldemort's fingers tightened on his wand. _Idiotic self-sacrificing Gryffindor_. "Elaborate," he hissed.

Harry's throat moved as he swallowed. "I…I wanted to know about you. Information concerning you. I…came to Snape thinking that he might know something."

"And how do you explain the wards?"

Harry looked around desperately. "Well, Professor Snape put them up, of course, but only because I asked him to. He's completely innocent."

He kept watching Harry even when the child very clearly knew he was walking straight into trouble. He wetted his dry lips again, and raised those defiant Killing Curse eyes up to his own crimson ones.

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" _Crucio!_ "

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He watched in anticipation as Harry crumpled to the floor in anguish, his eyes wide and lips parted.

 _It was breathtaking beauty_. Harry shuddered on the floor, hands clenched. Lord Voldemort watched in undisguised fascination as Harry twisted in pain, but stubbornly refused to scream. Not even his Death Eaters could withstand such torture without letting loose a few cries.

How _extraordinary_ Harry Potter was.

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Snape couldn't tear his eyes away from Potter as he suffered under the Dark Lord's Cruciatus Curse – meant for _him_ , not Potter! What an idiot Potter was!

He pressed his lips tightly together, and clasped his fingers behind him firmly, as if afraid he'd burst out screaming at the Dark Lord. Of course, not that it'd make any difference…The Dark Lord never treated even the smallest betrayal lightly.

Potter was now letting out choked cries. After struggling in silence, he couldn't keep in his whimpers in any longer. The boy was restraining himself from screaming out, he _knew_.

The pain from the Cruciatus was unrivalled to any other. It felt like a thousand white-hot knives were stabbing into your skin, like your blood turned into molten lava, like every nerve ending was thrumming with pure pain.

He stood stock–still, not wanting to anger the Dark Lord anymore.

Potter writhed on the floor, his lips bitten raw, and his hair a worse mess than usual.

How long had it been? To estimate, fifteen minutes. More or less.

He cast a cautious glance towards the Dark Lord. Those terrifying crimson eyes were fixed on Potter's form, watching him as if he was something he had never seen before.

Strangled cries broke out of Potter, but Severus could do nothing but watch helplessly as the thirteen–year–old was being tortured.

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"Severus, you may leave now," the Dark Lord spoke over Harry's agonized cries. "Betray me again, you will not be shown mercy." He tilted his head towards Harry's body. "Commit this picture to your memory, Severus. If such an incident occurs again, there _will_ be a repeat of this."

He watched, satisfied, as Severus bowed, and shot another grimacing glance to Harry.

"Fear not, Severus. I shall not kill the boy…or cause permanent damage to him. Now leave."

He waited till the Potions master bowed again and silently departed. When the door closed, he put up a silencing charm and locked it.

Then, regretfully, he ended the Cruciatus. Regretful because Harry was _divine_ when he was in agony. But any more time under his wand, and he could cause permanent damage, and Severus would probably have a heart attack.

Harry curled up into himself, gasping for breath and screwing his eyes shut. Voldemort tapped his wand against his palm indecisively, then transformed back into Tom Riddle before standing back to allow Harry space.

Slowly, Harry lifted up his head to glare at Tom. He was shaking, but he still scrambled – or rather, heaved himself up to his feet.

Tom concealed a sigh. _Gryffindors_. Always despising being seen as anything but strong. And Harry was the most sensitive of them all; hating to be perceived as _weak_.

"Are you satisfied now?" Harry asked, his voice sounding a little raspy. "Is Lord Voldemort's bloodthirsty nature appeased?"

Tom's blank face did not give away any of his emotions. "Torturing people did always make me happy. Besides," a small smirk curled at the corner of his lips, " _I'm never completely satisfied_." He then moved into Harry's personal space, close enough to feel heat radiating off the smaller body, and leaned in to whisper directly into Harry's ear. "I suppose you could say I'm _insatiable_ …" His lips brushed the shell of Harry's ear, and hot breath fanned out to his sensitive skin.

Harry flushed scarlet. Before he could raise his hands to push Tom away, the taller male moved back and regarded him critically.

"I hope that was enough of a warning to prevent you from committing further acts of betrayal against me." Tom's crimson orbs bore into Harry's emerald eyes. "I do not _forgive_." He paused. "Shielding Severus was not one of your better ideas, _sweetheart_."

He spun around, and left, not sparing a single glance towards Severus who was lingering outside.

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* * *

Harry bit his lip, trying to control his shaking. Then to his mortification, Snape came striding in, stopping at Harry's pale countenance. He flicked his wand, and a potion came flying into his hand. "Drink this, Potter," he ordered, even unscrewing the lid for him.

Harry took it, looking anywhere but the professor. "What is it?"

Snape looked ready to explode. "It won't poison you, you daft Gryffindor." When Harry continued staring at the potion suspiciously, he sighed. "It is a mere Pain Reliever that will help your nervous system. I haven't the least idea if you know this particular fact, but long bouts of the Cruciatus Curse can result in severe nerve damage, and/or even… insanity."

Unhappily, Harry gulped down the potion. Handing the bottle back, he would have collapsed if it weren't for Snape's hand curling around his elbow. He was held steady, and another potion was poured down his throat.

Immediately, his body started swaying as his limbs grew heavy.

"What did you give me?" he gasped out, or rather, tried. His words came out in slurred jumble as he swayed, his head pounding behind his eyes and his vision growing dim around the edges.

The last thing he knew before tipping over into darkness was that Snape was right about Tom Riddle – he really was unpredictable.

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 ** _We finally see Lord Voldemort! What do you think of this chapter? Please leave reviews! Don't hesitate to ask anything! Until next time!_**


	20. Chapter 20 - Reaching out across Rifts

_**Hello readers! Here's the 20th chapter!**_

 _ **In the last chapter, Harry was tortured by Lord Voldemort. Now we see the aftermath.**_

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Pleasant warmth greeted him kindly back into the world of living. Harry lay where he was, blinking, and wondering why there were ghostly aches all over his body. He shifted a little, wincing when his muscles protested the movement. Everything was blurred. So his glasses weren't on him. He felt softness underneath him. A bed? Too narrow.

Whatever it was, it was comfortable, the likes of which he had not felt before. It was not because the surface was soft – his bed in Gryffindor tower was softer – but the faint aroma of herbs that surrounded the soft shapes. It made the place feel safe and inviting.

He struggled to sit up, and then gave up, focusing instead on finding his glasses. When he slipped them on, everything came into focus, and Harry found himself lying on a faded green couch, with a couple of soft cushions propping his head up, and staring into a crackling fire.

Just where was he? Definitely inside Hogwarts. The stone walls were bare, only covering up their loneliness with a few bookshelves. Cautiously, Harry turned his head and saw a few cupboards with jars and books stacked neatly within, and a grey and dark green carpet on the floor perfectly melding with the grey castle walls. The air was a little cool, despite the fire, and a sort of spicy odour lingered.

He pushed off the tartan blanket draped over him, and tried to pinpoint where exactly he was.

"Awake at last. Really, Potter, an hour longer, and I'd have kicked you out no matter what."

Ah, something familiar. And harsh. And annoyed.

Snape's scowling face came into view. Harry blinked. "Where am I?"

"Of course you had to pass out on me like a damsel, and I was tasked with the horrifying job of lugging you all the way here, and then, as if you hadn't put me through enough trouble as it is, I had to grit my teeth and endure your drooling all over my precious cushions!"

"I wasn't drooling!" Harry exclaimed indignantly, peeking downwards after a beat to check that he hadn't. Then the rest of Snape's rant caught up with him and his brows furrowed. _What happened…?_

Everything cascaded on him so instantaneously that he jolted. "Oh Godric…you…Tom…he _tortured_ me…!" His voice had trailed off to a whisper by the end of the proclamation.

Snape nodded grimly. "So you remember. I believe the…torture was extensive, made all the more worse considering this was your first experience with it. You passed out instantly with a mild Sleeping Drought. The curse must have taken quite a toll on you." Seeing Harry's mouth open again he continued, "You are currently in my personal quarters, and that couch you were sleeping on happens to be mine."

"Oh." Harry didn't know what to react to first; the fact that Tom had tortured him, _tortured him with an Unforgivable_ , or that he had been fast asleep in Snape's _personal_ quarters, with the man right there, which was, quite frankly, extremely creepy.

The first thing to escape his uncontrollable mouth was, "Don't you own a bed, sir?" followed by "You have a _tartan_ blanket!"

Snape's eyebrow twitched. Harry swallowed.

"Mr. Potter, I do not know how you were brought up, but beds are required for sleep, so indeed I own one. I just did not want it infected by all sorts of germs from your person. As for the blanket, it was a gift."

Harry looked down at it, and up at Snape's disapproving face again. "It wasn't from Professor McGonagall, was it?"

Both eyebrows shot up. "How did you–"

Harry grinned. "I just figured. The tartan was a big clue."

Was he just imagining it, or was that a twitch at the corner of Snape's lips?

"Enough of your pointless questions, Potter. The headmaster has requested that you meet him as soon as possible."

Harry's eyes widened. "He knows? That Tom…"

"Of course he does, Potter. It would not do to keep him waiting."

Harry didn't answer. His ears were buzzing. _Tom tortured me._ _Tom tortured me. Tom tortured me. Tom tortured –_

"Potter!"

"He tortured me. With an Unforgivable." Harry's voice was very even, though his eyes darted up to ask Snape something. "Professor? Earlier, what you were trying to tell me…did you know that he would do this? Is that why you tried to warn me away from him?"

Snape crossed his arm, looking every inch the Dungeon Bat. "I suppose my warning was too late. And no, Potter, I did not know. Very few can tell how the Dark Lord's mind works, and that is only very little of the time."

Reading between the lines, Harry said, "And that was when he was insane." After a sharp nod from Snape, he sighed. "I thought he was going to torture _you_."

"And he would have, had you not very foolishly thrust yourself in front instead."

"I couldn't let him torture you!"

"And pray tell me, why is that?"

Harry fidgeted. A few minutes passed, and Harry looked up through his lashes. "Can I have a glass of water, professor? Please?"

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* * *

He needed some Firewhiskey. He remembered an ancient bottle stashed behind The Art of Potion Making in Egypt. He could finish that. Oh yes, what a soothing idea. As soon as Potter was out of here, he'd bolt the door, and drink.

He really needed it. Very badly. Also, a Calming Drought would be lovely.

This was getting out of hand. He was Severus Snape, the feared Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He could silence a class with a single footstep. He could make the bravest of Gryffindors cower behind their cauldrons with a word. There was also that very pleasant incident a few years ago when a first–year Hufflepuff had fainted in her first Potions class. He hadn't gotten past his frightening sneer and the first few lines of his rather impressive and intimidating introduction when her eyes had rolled to the back of her head. He supposed his ladle banging hadn't improved the situation.

But now, there was Harry Potter. Gryffindor, the very definition of it, though he wasn't completely irredeemable. Fortunately. The Wizarding world would otherwise be doomed. He did have his moments of intellect, though sadly, never in his class.

Yet here he was, tending to the boy, even bringing him a glass of water! Well, he did just get tortured by his new best friend – Merlin forbid the Dark Lord should hear himself described in such a way. And he did, for some extraordinary reason, save Snape from a torture session courtesy of the Dark Lord. But bringing the boy to his personal quarters? Allowing him to sleep on his couch and cushions? True, he was…Lily's son… _and_ also James'. He could be a miniature James Potter when he closed his eyes.

But then again, how different to his horrid father he was. Severus grudgingly admitted to himself that although the brat did seem to possess a mischievous streak, he would never ever put somebody in danger wittingly. No, he would risk life and limb to save them instead. Well, that could be a side effect of being hailed as a hero by the wizarding world. He did not brag, and would altogether be more like Lily if he showed more potential in Potions. Yet, like his father, Quidditch was his religion. His friends were important.

But like Lily, he is a somewhat quiet and respectful student, a little voice that sounded disturbingly like a certain twinkly–eyed man said at the back of his mind.

He forcefully shut the voice up and focused on the raven haired teenager hunched on his ( _his!_ ) couch, carefully sipping water, his still slightly shaking fingers holding the glass tightly.

"You were helping me. You were doing it for me." Potter's soft voice suddenly broke the quiet. Snape raised an eyebrow. "That's why I had to stop him from torturing you."

Ah, gratitude, or perhaps heroism.

"And I don't just mean what happened in your office this morning," the boy went on. A determined expression came across his face. "That first quidditch match when Quirrell was cursing my broom…Quirell told me that you were chanting the counter–curse." Snape's eyebrow rose higher. Surely Potter wasn't going to launch into a speech of acknowledgement? "And then in second year, you defended me against Filch's accusations…and this year….near the Whomping Willow…you put yourself in between us and Professor Lupin in his werewolf form…" He took another sip of water and continued quickly, as if resolute to get it all out. "I know I've not really thanked you for any of it, because, well, you aren't the most approachable person around…but…what I'm trying to tell you is…thank you. For saving my life."

"Potter, we are not having a Gryffindor bonding session here. There are so many other idiots out there that would jump at the chance to be your friend. Kindly do not repeat such mushy sentimental words in my presence again."

Instead of appearing downcast like Snape had expected, Potter had a bright grin on his face that would make mindless girls lose their mind.

They both settled back into the silence. Snape was making a mental reminder to cast a scourgify on his couch later.

"What's the time?" Potter asked suddenly.

Refraining from huffing, Snape intoned, "An hour or two before dinner, I believe."

"It's _evening_?" Potter yelped. "But…Ron, Hermione…"

"Relax, Potter, I already dispatched a note to your Head of House informing her that I have you working on a badly–written essay. Your friends would be informed."

"But I came in the morning, and, oh Merlin, how long did I sleep for?"

"Half a day, I'd estimate. However, your body needed to shut down to undo the damage done, so I did not wish to wake you up just to have you swoon again."

"I didn't _swoon_!…I…might have…passed out…with dignity–"

"Irrelevant. All I have to do is deliver you to the Headmaster, and then I'm done with you for the day."

"I'm sorry about taking up your day off sir…"

"So like you, isn't it, Potter? Never stop bothering me." He was a bit disappointed to see the brat was still not rising to any of his baits. Perhaps being around the Dark Lord had changed him.

A quarter of an hour later, Snape indicated the fireplace to Potter, and he flooed to the Headmaster's office.

Blessed peace.

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Harry tried to appear completely at ease and comfortable in an armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk, but judging by the dimmed twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes, he was failing miserably. Giving up, he sighed and leaned back, waiting for the other to start.

He didn't have to wait longer than a minute.

"You are only thirteen, Harry."

"Yes sir."

"I will never forgive myself for allowing a child of thirteen to be exposed to an Unforgivable."

Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "You aren't at fault, sir. You couldn't have possibly stopped Tom."

With a sorrowful smile, Dumbledore said, "You, my boy, have a truly big heart to forgive this old man for his remissness." After a long pause, he asked a question that Harry wasn't at all sure he was ready for. "Do you forgive Tom?"

Harry fisted his hands in his clothes, remembering the easy, almost casual – but soft – way Tom had uttered the curse. Then his mind flashed back to Tom's smirks, how his eyes would bore into Harry's, how he always held himself coldly, how he would tug at their link… the way his breath had caressed the shell of his ear…

"I don't know," he said honestly. Dumbledore nodded, waiting. "But…I think I'm glad." He paused a moment to gather his jumbled thoughts. "I mean, I'm glad it wasn't Snape under his wand."

" _Professor_ Snape, Harry. And yes, I fear Tom wouldn't have held off with him."

"Yeah…"

A wrinkled hand stroked over his snowy beard. "Even as a child, Tom was prone to punish those who, in his view, wronged him, or was disloyal to him. He had a certain circle who followed him – that is not to say that the whole of Slytherin house wasn't hanging on to his every command. His circle, all purebloods, of course, went on to become the first Death Eaters." He popped a lemon drop into his mouth, a faraway look in his eyes. "I have reason to believe that he used his new name even while in school, of course, strictly among those who held a place in his group of closest…acquaintances."

"Acquaintances? You mean, he didn't have friends? Nobody he could…confide in?" It seemed horrid to Harry, having to bear everything all by himself. Without Ron and Hermione, he didn't know how different he'd turn out.

"He never trusted anyone, Harry. Never. He had followers, not friends. All pureblood heirs that were very taken in with his ideals, his plans for the future."

"And what were his plans, sir?" Harry asked. He had a vague idea, but he wanted to hear it from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed, and rested his fingertips against each other. "Well, Tom was from an orphanage in London. No parents…I won't disclose much about his life to you, but I can say this – Tom had a very deep hatred for muggles. He frightened his peers and caretakers alike. By extension, he loathed muggleborns, as all purebloods, especially Slytherins, do. Here at Hogwarts, it was easy for him to build up his empire based on the hatred of those – in their opinion – unworthy of being accepted in the wizarding world, those witches and wizards who were ridiculed for existing."

"Mudbloods." Harry said blankly. Dumbledore nodded.

"He was extremely clever at playing nice with the other professors. He was so good, I could never find a single piece of evidence of his posing in the shadows. Not even when he unleashed the basilisk upon the school."

Harry's throat tightened. "It was convenient, wasn't it, that Hagrid was keeping Aragog? He pinned the blame on them, and came out of the whole thing with a halo."

"Indeed. None suspected him in the least." Dumbledore peered at him with a sudden earnestness. "You have to understand, Harry, Tom Riddle has always had the ability to make others do his bidding. His charisma drew others in, and in time, he had armies at his command. But there was one very important thing that he discarded."

Harry leaned forward in his seat.

" _Love_."

Dumbledore dipped his head, looking at him thoughtfully over his half-moon spectacles. "Harry."

"Sir?"

"When he presented himself as Lord Voldemort, did you see anything different?"

Harry stifled a grin. "Aside from the nose – or lack of thereof?"

A smile crossed the Headmaster's face. "I suppose _that_ is quite unfortunate." Harry could think of many things about it aside of ' _unfortunate'_. "However, the physical aspects aside, did you detect any difference between the schoolboy and the Dark Lord?"

Harry thought long and hard, and finally offered up a hesitant "No…?"

"Ah." Dumbledore said no more, leaving Harry bewildered, and steered the conversation to his health, his lessons, and general life in Gryffindor.

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 _ **Next chapter - The confrontation between Tom and Harry!**_

 _ **Leave reviews!**_


	21. Chapter 21 - Revelations

_**Hello, everyone! So here's another chapter!**_

 _ **Reminder: I have edited all the chapters, the summary, the title and the image, because I felt that this story was not quite expressive to the standard I wanted. Hence, the new versions. Don't forget to read chapters 1 - 20!**_

 _ **Thank you to the readers who reviewed and helped me make my decision to rewrite the entire story. Hope you guys will like the edited version!**_

 _ **Please leave reviews!**_

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A single pair of polished shoes made a clack of footsteps on the stone floor. The sound approached, until finally it came to a stop on the opposite side of the table.

 _._

"So Severus healed you up, did he?" Harry steadfastly refused to look up, and serenely kept reading the tome he had found in the library – _Forbidden Practices_.

"Harry."

He turned a page.

Tom settled into the seat across him, and rolled a quill between his hands. Even that mundane gesture held nothing but grace.

"Not ignoring me, are you? How _mature_."

Harry started the chapter on Healing Rituals.

" ** _Harry…_** "

Harry was glad they were in an empty study hall with nobody around to freak out at the Parseltongue. He kept his eyes on the page, and his fingers ready to snatch his wand out at the slightest threat.

" ** _Don't provoke me, my_** **darling**."

He didn't move.

The book flew out of his hands, and landed with a thump a little way down the table. Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and knowing he couldn't hope to defeat Tom if it came to a fight. He stood up, grabbed his bag and headed for the doors….which banged shut _silently_. Ah, a silencing charm. The bolts slid home.

Harry turned a second too late. He was slammed against a table, all the breath knocked out of him, and the edges of the table digging harshly into his skin just above his hips. His bag went skidding while his hands wrapped around the strong hand Tom had pressed over the base of his throat. Tom's other hand laid over Harry's heaving lower ribcage. His lower body quite effectively pinned the younger wizard down.

Harry blinked, trying to get his breath back. "Anger issues?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Only with you."

"How flattering," Harry drawled. "I suppose crucioing me wasn't enough? You have to go around slamming me into furniture? It hurts a bit, you know."

"You were _asking_ for the Cruciatus, Harry," Tom's eyes seemed to glow in the semi-darkness of the hall. "I'm not to blame. We had an agreement, and I'm not the one who broke it."

After a moment of stillness, Harry sighed and dropped his head back on the table beneath him. "No, I guess you weren't." Then he raised his head, aiming a steel glare at Tom. "That doesn't mean you can try to torture Snape. He was only looking out for me."

Tom's face came very close to his. "That saving–people attitude you possess is crazy and needs to be gotten rid of as soon as possible."

Harry's flashing green eyes narrowed. "So caring about people – especially about people who try to _help_ me – is a _weakness_? Is that what you're implying?"

"It is nothing but a weakness. Only the faint–hearted would cling to such notions like the old fool does."

"Professor Dumbledore knows what he's talking about, unlike you, because it's very plain that you've never allowed yourself to ' _show weakness_ in the form of _emotions'_." Harry pushed against Tom's chest ineffectually.

"Emotions blind people, _Harry_. It blocks their ability to think clearly. It hinders progress."

"Right, like you're an expert in the feelings department."

"I never claimed so, sweetheart."

Harry pushed against Tom again. " _Why_ do you keep calling me that?"

Tom appeared to lean even more on Harry, a smirk crawling over his lips. "What? _Sweetheart_?"

Harry nodded, wanting to press himself away from Tom, but not wanting to give the other the satisfaction. Tom smiled – albeit a very spine-chilling one.

"Did I not once tell you that we share an intimacy that none can hope to achieve?" he all but purred. "Think about it, Harry, our minds are so closely interlinked, you wouldn't be able to tell us apart if the link was wrapped in enough magic and emotion…How _personal_ … Don't you think? Don't we have a right to use such terms on each other, when others use them for much lesser bonds?"

"How very romantic," Harry said as flatly as he could. "Then again, you who haven't the _slightest_ idea of love, assuming the role of a _lover_ …is hilarious at the least. Now get _off_ me." Tom's chuckle vibrated in his chest, and Harry shivered, feeling it. "Now!"

"Scared, Gryffindor?"

"Not in the slightest. It's just that I'm sure my back is bruised by now."

"You are very adept at tolerating pain, I noticed, darling. Care to share?"

A brief image of a glowering Uncle Vernon flashed through Harry's mind, and his jaw tightened subconsciously. He snapped his eyes away from Tom and so missed the slight narrowing of the Dark Lord's eyes. "No. And stop calling me that. I know what you're trying to do – get a rise out of me. Well, try something else, because you calling me embarrassing names isn't going to work."

With another truly scary smile – this one showing all his perfect pearly white teeth, Tom stepped away finally, allowing Harry his personal space. Said wizard straightened up, letting out a groan of pain as he moved off the table he'd been pinned against.

"As a matter of fact, I don't think you trust me at all. Am I right?" Harry asked, gingerly rubbing his fingers over his back. Tom stared back with his normal ice–blue eyes.

"I suppose I could say the same of you," he retorted. Harry stayed quiet, needing to hear more. "There should be some form of trust between us. The mere existence of our link could lead to great disaster without something to hold our belief in each other."

"Trust needs to be earned." Harry said softly. "Today you hurt me when you found me alone with Snape. That shows you didn't trust me not to turn against you. I think you feel vulnerable. You can put up all sorts of barriers around you, but as long as the link is there, you'll never completely be closed off from me."

Neither of the two moved for a few minutes. Then Tom spoke. "We cannot be more different from each other. I feel you are somewhat of a _masochist_ –"

"And you're a _sadist_!"

"Exactly. We're different. You care. I don't. You feel. I don't. Yet here we are, bound to each other. Harry, I saw you cry for a child who got hurt – from your point of view, because of _you_. You shielded a person you detest simply because he was innocent, even though you knew you'd have to take his place. I would never do anything like that. And do you know why we are so different?"

"Aren't you about to tell me?" Drily, Harry responded.

Without a hint of a smile, Tom answered him. "Because while I do not allow myself to admit to anything other than logic, you are ruled by your emotions. They bubble inside you, a disorganized, revolting whirlpool of feelings! You succumb to whatever your emotions lead to – never once using your brain!"

"It isn't wrong to follow one's heart!"

Tom continued as if he hadn't spoken. "It was guilt that made you shed tears for Creevey. It was fear and concern that made you decide to save Severus. It is–"

"It's my _EMOTIONS_ that are making me stick with you despite everything you say and do! It's _relief_ and _reprieve_ and _hope_ and _happiness_ and – and _comfort_ that's making me stay beside you even with _everything_ and _everyone_ pulling me _away_! **Why** ** _can't you_** **see** ** _that_** **?!** " He was suddenly blindingly angry, and just wanted to just show Tom, just show him what it was – the blankness was driving him insane – he seized the link and opened it wide at his end, willing him to _see_ and to come out and _feel_ and know how mad he drove Harry, and what he made him feel, the relief of being with someone he didn't have to explain himself to, someone who understood him and saw him for what he was…

Deep inside, something uncurled – Harry didn't know whether it was in his mind or his heart or somewhere else altogether…and he felt as if he was inside a tornado, everything blurred past, and for a moment all he could see, hear, feel, was _Tom_ _Tom_ _Tom_ _Tom_ …and someone was gasping – was it him…no, why would he, he was safe and warm and…

…on the floor on his knees…

Harry lurched forward, vaguely aware of his ears ringing, and his brain going from fuzzy to clear in the space of a heartbeat. "Tom?" was the first word to leave his mouth, and "You idiot." were the first words to reach his ears.

He blinked once or twice, and realized that Tom was holding him up, just like he was holding Tom up, and both of them were on their knees on the cold stone floor. Tom's eyes were closed, and his brow furrowed, and Harry's hands clenched in Tom's robes, wondering if he was hurt.

"Tom?" he contemplated slapping him across the face just to spite him, but then it wouldn't do him any good in the long run.

Fortunately – or unfortunately – Tom opened his eyes by himself. "Well done, Golden Boy, you've widened the possibilities of the link, singlehandedly, I might add. _What did you do?_ "

Harry looked back at him. "Nothing. I mean, I don't know – I can't explain it."

Tom looked at him some more, then shook his head with a half–hearted "Figures."

Somehow that one word dissolved the remaining tension between them, but it seemed Tom wasn't finished.

"So now we're best friends? How… disgusting."

Harry let out chortle of laughter, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. "You know, friendship isn't something you can just decide based on logic. It just happens. And yeah, if you want to, we can be friends. You know," Harry paused with a smirk of his own, "I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings…"

"Repeat that, and I'll break something of yours. And here's a hint – it won't be anything outside your body."

"Right, back to threatening. So….when can I introduce you to the rest of my Gryffindor friends?"

"Don't even contemplate it for a second."

.

* * *

 ** _So how did you like the confrontation? Did it go the way you expected? Leave reviews and tell me your thoughts!_**


	22. Chapter 22 - The Truth about Remus Lupin

_**Hello! I'm back with a new chapter! I'm sorry about the late update but real life has been hectic and I was really busy and worn out. Also, I'm really sad that I received less reviews than I liked...Please leave reviews when you read.**_

 _ **To remind you all once again, I've edited the entire thing, so don't forget to read the first 20 chapters! Things you don't understand might be explained.**_

 _ **All right, enjoy!**_

 _._

* * *

Harry knocked on Professor Lupin's door, feeling a little curious. Earlier that day, he'd received a note from the DADA professor, asking him to come to his office whenever he had a free period.

The door swung open and Harry was called in. Lupin put down the newspaper he had been perusing in favor of flashing a grin at Harry, who closed the door behind him and looked up quizzically.

"You must be wondering why I asked you to come and see me today, is that right, Harry?" After receiving a nod, Lupin continued. "Professor Dumbledore recently made a request of me. He wants me to teach you a method of communication that was invented by the Headmaster himself, a method only a very few people know of. Come, take off your robes and take out your wand."

Harry obeyed, feeling excited. Lupin took off his robes as well, leaving him in a somewhat worn out shirt and trousers.

"Now, let me tell you a little about this spell. It involves the use of the Patronas Charm in corporeal form, which you have already mastered." Lupin went on to explain to Harry that all he had to do was conjure the patronas – the stag in his case – and relay the message to it. The patronas would then reach the intended recipient and repeat the message. "Remember to keep your message short, simple, and above all, clear. If this method is used with a weak patronas, the words always become distorted, but I'm sure you will not have this problem. So let's see your Patronas, Harry."

Harry nodded, brought up a memory to the front of his mind, and cast the spell. A brilliant glowing white stag burst from his wand tip and pranced around the room, lighting up the corners and leaving a misty trail behind.

"Excellent, very impressive, Harry! Now you have to give it the message. Go on, try." Harry flicked his hand, and the huge stag came bounding towards him. He said a sentence to it, and sent it off to Professor Lupin. He gasped when he heard his own voice coming out of the stag's mouth.

Lupin clapped. "Well done Harry! Very good, you did it perfectly on the first try! Perfect!" His grin widened, and Harry returned it. "Just out of curiosity, what did you think of this time?"

"Mum and Dad again, professor. And Sirius."

Lupin nodded. "Harry, you can call me Remus. Yes, I'm your teacher," he said when Harry hesitated, "but I'm also your parents' friend, your friend, and your family. There isn't any reason for you to keep calling me 'Professor' and 'Sir' when we're alone."

Harry blinked, his heart pounding a furious rhythm. "M– my family…?" He wondered if he'd fallen into some dream. All his life he'd craved family, and now, after thirteen years, he got Sirius, and then Remus. It felt too good to be true.

Remus stepped closer, and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Yes, Harry. Your family. Your father, Sirius and I were very close at school, and now we won't abandon you. Alright?" Harry made a sound like a strangled hiccup and pressed up against Remus, feeling immeasurably touched when Remus hugged him back tightly with all of his werewolf strength.

A memory flashed in the back of his head.

.

 _"_ _Come on, kiddo! Si-ri-us. Si-ri-us. Say it Harry, come on, I know you can!" Sirius, much younger and happier, knelt in front of baby Harry with a huge excited grin._

 _"_ _Si-li! Si-li!" Baby Harry exclaimed, eliciting a delighted laugh out of Remus, who was sitting on the rug next to Sirius. "Yes, Harry, very good! You did wonderfully!" He craned his neck towards the door, and called out, "James, Lily, come and see this!"_

 _Sirius pinched Remus' arm playfully. "All right, all right, you_ know _he said 'Si_ ri _'!_

 _"_ _That's not what he said, Sirius, admit it. Right, Harry?" Remus ruffled Harry's mop of thick dark hair fondly._

 _"_ _What happened?" Lily asked, hurrying into the room with James on her heels._

 _"_ _Harry was just being extremely clever," Remus said, taking the baby into his lap and bouncing him a bit. "Say it again, Harry."_

 _"_ _Si-li!" Harry said obligingly, even pointing at Sirius helpfully._

 _James burst into laughter and even Lily couldn't keep her giggles in._

 _"_ _He's got you figured out perfectly, Padfoot!" James gasped out in between his laughing. "Silly!"_

 _Sirius rolled his eyes and threw one of Harry's fist sized plush snitches at James' head. "Oh, cut it out, Prongs! You're just jealous." Then he blinked. "Were you and Lily snogging in the kitchen?"_

 _"_ _Sirius!" gasped Lily, flushing in mortification._

 _"_ _What? I'm right, aren't I? You're looking all disheveled, both of you." Sirius smirked._

 _"_ _Padfoot!"James groaned, though he didn't deny it._

 _"_ _Paddy…"_

 _All four looked at Harry who sat innocently in Remus' lap. Sirius immediately took him into his own lap. "Harry, say it again!"_

 _"_ _Paddy!" Harry repeated. Lily smiled, tucking a bit of her beautiful red hair behind her ear as she gazed down at her son with love._

 _"_ _It's_ Padfoot _, son," James instructed, a proud smile playing on his lips._

 _"_ _Paddy!"_

 _Remus grinned. "Sounds a bit like 'Daddy', doesn't it?"_

 _"_ _Fitting, seeing that the two of you are his godfathers…" James said, smiling at his two best friends._

 _Remus sobered up. "James…we've been over this–"_

 _"_ _No, Moony. Your weak excuses won't deter me. Harry loves you just like he loves Padfoot. Both of you are his godfathers, don't forget that."_

 _"_ _But, James, have you forgotten–"_

 _"_ _No, I've not forgotten your furry little problem, Remus. But when has that ever come in between us? Yes, Lily and I agreed with you that you wouldn't be Harry's godfather legally like Sirius is –_ yet _– but you are his godfather nevertheless."_

 _"_ _He's right, Remus," Lily said, slipping her hand into James'. "Harry will need both of you in the future. And I know the two of you will always be there for him should anything…" She briefly faltered, "…anything happen to us…" James' hand tightened around hers._

 _Sirius added his own voice. "Look here, Moony. We're in this together. We're a family. You've always been strong at heart, despite whatever weighed you down, and now's not the time to start. Now's especially not the time, not with Harry in possible danger. We know you'll do anything to keep him safe, Moony."_

 _Sirius passed Harry to Remus who took him gently. "Moo– Moony?" Harry asked, blinking his big green eyes at Remus._

 _"_ _See? Even Harry agrees!" Sirius crowed, making the serious atmosphere dissipate. Remus hugged Harry close._

 _"_ _I…I'll always look out for you, Harry. We'll all be here for you…But," he added, running his serious eyes over the others in the room, "I can't be his godfather. No, listen. It's…a werewolf issue. My inner wolf will see him…I'm not sure. And I don't want to hurt Harry, or any of you if I lose…lose control. However, godfather or not, I'll always be there whenever he needs me," he looked up beseechingly at James and Lily. "It has to be enough for now…"_

 _Sirius put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and gave him an equally reassuring smile. "It is."_

"Harry?" A hand tapped his shoulder, and Remus' concerned eyes peered into Harry's blinking ones. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded, allowing Remus to release him from the hug, and sat down on a step, giving space for Remus to settle down beside him.

"I just suddenly remembered something," he said, swallowing past the big lump in his throat. "A memory. Of my parents and you and Sirius. I was a still a baby."

Remus shifted beside him. "What was it?"

Harry turned to meet his gaze headlong. "Did my parents name you as my godfather as well as Sirius?"

Remus went very still. A suffocating silence settled over the office, making Harry feel as if he was underwater. He knew with sickening clarity that this wasn't one of his wistful imagination's creations. And Remus wasn't responding.

"Remus?"

…

Remus stirred. "I didn't know you would remember that. You were less than a year old." His voice was very quiet. "It's true that your parents would have liked me as your second godfather. Sirius was and always will be your first godfather, Harry. He was much, very much closer to your father than I was. But they were prepared to accept me as your second godfather, and it isn't legal either. Sirius, wanted criminal or not, is your first, legal godfather." He raked a hand through his hair. "But…Harry, I can't. I can't – you must understand…"

Harry felt his throat closing up, felt like the ceiling of his happy bubble caved in on top of him with the weight of a million bricks… He wasn't wanted…

Aunt Petunia's sneering face surfaced in his mind… " _A freak like you isn't wanted in our normal house!_ "

 _Unwanted_ …..

"Harry…Harry?" Remus was gripping his hands, forcibly straightening them out and revealing tiny crescent moon shaped bloody dents made by his fingernails on his palms. "You – why are you upset? Do you actually _want_ me as your godfather? _Me_ , a _werewolf_?"

And suddenly the lump in his throat melted away and his heart slowed sown, only to resume pumping furiously. _Dare he hope…._

"Is that your problem?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse. "Your lycanthropy – is that what's stopping you from– from accepting me as your godson?"

"You mean…." Remus was staring at him bewildered. "You…I – you _want_ me as your _godfather_?"

"Why wouldn't I?" yelled Harry, surging to his feet, anger and a thousand other feelings rushing through him. " _Why wouldn't I?_ "

"Because I'm not _worthy_!" Remus was up on his feet too, his face looking pained. "I wasn't here when you needed me! I wasn't there when your parents were– were murdered! I wasn't there when Sirius was tossed into Azkaban! I wasn't there when your life was in danger, when you needed an adult in your life, when you needed support! I _promised_ myself, I _promised_ Lily and James and Sirius, and here I am, having broken promises left and right, and putting you in even _more_ danger!"

" _How_ on earth are _you_ putting me in _danger_?" Harry cried out, his magic flaring out and smashing a few glass objects around the room. Neither paid too much attention, even when some papers began sliding across the surfaces they had been left on, or when pages of open books flipped rapidly.

"Have you forgotten what happened during the last full moon?" Remus yelled back, his eyes flashing amber – the colour of his wolf eyes, Harry knew instinctively. "I almost ripped you into pieces, and put your friends in danger too, and you say–"

"Stop moping about that, Remus!" Harry said, tears of frustration pricking at his eyes. "I've told you that your full moon problem doesn't matter! And this guilt you've been clinging to the past years, you need to let go of it!" He vaguely noticed the candles were flaring up, but soon dismissed them in favor of blinking away his tears. "Look, Remus, if you didn't want me, you can just tell me so and stop blaming yourself! But I'll tell you this once more, I don't give a damn if you're a werewolf, or vampire or anything else, you said we're family and I wanted to believe that so badly…" He was backing towards the door, his vision blurring although his glasses were still sitting in place.

Strong hands seized him in an unrelenting grip and prevented his fleeing. " _Harry!_ Harry, don't you ever – _ever_ – say a thing like that! Of _course_ I want you to be my godson! But you need to _understand_ the situation!" Remus' eyes were steadily flaring amber, and his grip was painful. Harry squirmed, making the werewolf understand and step back, his hands still rubbing over his arms.

"See? This is what I'm trying to make you see! I'm a werewolf, Harry, I can hurt people around me!"

Not answering that, Harry simply sat back down on the step they had vacated and stared evenly at Remus.

The man groaned, ran his hand through his already mussed up hair, and finally sank back down next to Harry. He slipped his hand into his pocket, and brought out a bar of chocolate, broke it into half and handed Harry a piece.

"I'm touched at the faith you have in me, Harry. But I know more than anyone how dangerous a werewolf can be. Besides, you…you have a certain reputation in the wizarding world – having me as your godfather will cause problems." A pause. "I'm a werewolf, and because of my condition, I was unable to take you in twelve years ago. The rules haven't changed."

"Remus," Harry interrupted gently. "I don't need a legal guardian. I mean…I have the Dursleys legally at least. And even though Sirius is my legal godfather, it's not like he's treated appropriately, is it? He's a criminal on the run, and do you hear me complaining? So you're a werewolf, big deal! I don't care! All I've ever wanted was a family! Moony, please. You have self–control, even more than Sirius. Besides, it's only one day a month. You've proved yourself to be trustworthy, to be in control, or you wouldn't be teaching here! Dumbledore wouldn't have put any student in danger. And you know what everyone's saying? That you're the best Defense teacher we've had so far! And it's true! Besides–"

"Harry, stop," interrupted Remus with a faint smile playing about his lips. His eyes had gone back to their normal color, and his posture appeared less tense.

Harry automatically relaxed too, and tried to stop flushing at his outburst. His eyes widened as he and Remus took in the glass shards scattered on the floor, the papers scattered around, and the candles just now returning to normal.

"That was quite a bit of accidental magic," Remus smiled, waving his wand and putting everything right.

"Sorry." Harry muttered, embarrassed. He was way too old to be doing accidental magic.

"Mm–hm. This is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry," Remus patted his shoulder. "I'm impressed." He sighed. "As for the previous matter, I understand. So if you ever need an adult, a friend, a teacher, or anything, you can come to me as well as to Sirius. All right?"

Harry felt all the tension in his muscles dissolving. "Thank you, Remus. Really, it means so much to me."

"It means even more to me, Harry, that you want me as your family too…" Remus smiled. "How about we celebrate this with tea and sandwiches? You don't have anything to do, yes?"

Harry replied that he didn't, and a short time later, they were both sitting down to tea and cakes brought up by an elf. However, Harry's mind was whirring rapidly as his curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "Remus? Would you mind telling me how exactly you became a werewolf?"

Remus sighed again – although it was almost unnoticeable. "No, you have a right to know the tale. Not a very happy one, mind you." He took a measured sip of his tea and started. "I was bitten by another werewolf – you know that is one of the ways to become a werewolf? Yes. I was a small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure."

"Not even the Wolfsbane potion?" asked Harry.

"No. Well, at least as far as I can remember, no. There might have been some for sale, but always extremely expensive. I'm poor, Harry, and so were my parents. They couldn't afford treatment or even medical help."

"Oh."

"But no matter, I had the best friends I could have asked for. They became animagi to keep me company on full moon nights in the Shrieking Shack."

Remus' grim face softened as he thought about his friends. But then his face darkened and Harry instantly knew his thoughts had turned to Pettigrew's betrayal.

Remus shook his head, and forced a smile onto his face. "So, speaking of friends…"

Harry all of a sudden knew what was coming, and groaned loudly internally. This was unavoidable.

"I noticed you've been spending a lot of time with a certain Slytherin recently…"

.

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 _ **Please review!**_


	23. Chapter 23 - The Start of the Nightmare

_**Sorry about the delay, everyone, real life has been so busy...one thing after another. BUT...I did manage to get this up!**_

 _ **Please review after you read, and tell me what you like, dislike, or your opinions on characters or the story itself. I want to know what you feel!**_

 _ **Thank you to all those who have followed/favourited me, and those who left detailed reviews, a very big thanks to you awesome people!**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy this chapter.**_

 _ **This is dedicated to all Quidditch fans out there.**_

 _ **.**_

* * *

"I noticed you've been spending a lot of time with a certain Slytherin recently…"

Harry almost dropped his head onto the table. Almost. He managed to not do it.

"Yes, he's a friend." Please change conversation topic, please please, spare him the mortification…

Remus eyebrows shot up. "A friend?" he asked slowly. When Harry nodded, he looked even more flabbergasted. "I thought…perhaps you and he were working on a class assignment together or something… A Slytherin friend?"

"Yeah. And I know that Gryffindors and Slytherins are supposed hex each other on sight, but Tom…he's not too bad."

Remus continued to look disbelieving.

"All right, he's a complete prat. A bloodthirsty, psychopathic, selfish, biased, horrible, remorseless, genius prat. But he's all right." Harry relented.

"Well, if you say so…" Remus still looked doubtful. "But I hardly see you without him – you seem to be spending more time with him than with your Gryffindor friends… You're not in trouble, I hope?"

Harry stiffened defensively. "No, Moony, I'm spending time with him because I like spending time with him." Huh. Oddly enough, that was the truth.

"Of course," Remus said hurriedly. "I'm not going to judge you for that or anything… It's just…Slytherins tend to have rather unsavory reputations…"

"Tom hasn't." Harry said immediately. Now why was he so angry about Tom being criticized? What was _wrong_ with him? Remus was looking at him rather warily. He tried to form a sheepish grin.

"Really, Remus. I'm fine." He mentally relaxed when Remus looked less concerned.

"If you're sure, Harry, then it's fine. By the way, there's something else I've wanted to ask you…"

"What?" Anything to steer the conversation away from Tom.

"That night in the Shrieking Shack, when Hermione shouted out what I was, you didn't seem very surprised." Remus looked into Harry's eyes speculatively. "Because you already knew, didn't you?" When Harry just grinned shyly, he asked in a surprised tone, "How?"

Grinning, Harry shrugged and replied. "Well, it wasn't that difficult to work out. What got me thinking was the fact that when you jumped in between me and the boggart during that Defense lesson, your boggart turned into a full moon. Which was a very unusual fear to have. Though I assumed you might be afraid of werewolves in general – but then the boggart would've turned into a werewolf, wouldn't it?" He paused to take a gulp of his tea. "There were other clues. You always looked tired and ragged around the time of the full moon. You would always disappear once a month, and Snape, when he took over your classes, always insisted on skipping chapters and doing werewolves. One of his essays, we were told to put particular emphasis on _recognizing_ werewolves. And I didn't need to have eyes to know that Snape disliked you a lot, hence the attention to nocturnal beasts. I guess he was hoping one of us would eventually figure it out and get you sacked."

"Well, why didn't you say anything?"

Again Harry shrugged. "Why would I? You were a pretty good teacher, and you never posed a danger to anyone, so what was the point of making a fuss? Besides, I could never do that; you were one of the nicest people I'd come across, and you being a werewolf wasn't a big deal."

Remus suddenly blinked. "That sounded incredibly like Lily. You sounded just as compassionate as she was, regarding my lycanthropy." His eyes shone warmly, while Harry blushed, something inside him warming up when he heard it.

Maybe, just maybe… he wouldn't be alone.

…

* * *

 _"_ _I am beyond displeased… Am I to make an example again?" He could almost see their fear surging off them in growing waves. Sweat beaded and rolled down down down, taking their hope with it. All of it. "Such incompetence!" They inhaled sharply, a few kissing his robes in hopes of forgiveness like the dogs they were, and the rest keeping their fearful eyes on the bone white wand he held lovingly in his hands._

 _"_ _My orders were quite clear, yes?" He received nods from those who hadn't already crawled to his feet. "Simple orders, which you have failed to obey!" His crimson eyes gleamed, a warning of what was to come. His magic flared in readiness, bringing the rest of the Death Eaters to their knees._

 _"_ _M–my lord–"_

 _"_ _Crucio!"_

Harry shot upright, gasping for breath.

He ran a shaking hand across his damp forehead. Another one, another nightmare to jerk him out of his sleep. At least he hadn't woken up screaming this time like last time. Or the one before that, or the one before even that….

He peeked through his curtains for a second. Thank Godric for his foresight in casting Silencing Charms as was his habit by now. All his dorm mates were fast asleep. It was almost time to wake up anyway.

He frowned, when phantom aches made his limbs feel heavy, a contrast to the satisfaction and power rush he had felt just before waking. A nice long shower was what he needed right now.

…

* * *

Despite his rude awakening, Harry felt miles better when he stepped out of the bathroom, already in his Quidditch uniform. Accosted by a gleeful Ron and Seamus, he could do nothing other than laugh and get swept up in the general excitement that accompanied a Quidditch match.

The Great Hall was full too, all the students eagerly wolfing down their breakfasts in order to go out and get good places in the stands.

Today's match was Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. Harry glimpsed the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang, surrounded by her friends as he took his own place at the Gryffindor table flanked by Fred and George.

"I can't wait to see you on the Firebolt, Harry!" Ron was exclaiming while digging into his own breakfast. "Seriously, you'll knock the other team off their brooms!"

This was one of the reasons why Harry was never nervous before a match. Thank you, Ron Weasley.

…

* * *

"All right, team, hurry up!" Oliver's voice rang over their heads, and Harry smiled to himself as he brought up the rear of the Gryffindor team. Well, at least he was smiling until someone caught his arm.

Tom. Why was he surprised?

"Try not to fall off your broom today, honey." Tom's cultured voice was dripping with sarcasm. Of course, he must be _waiting_ for Harry to fall off.

Harry said so to Tom.

The only thing the bastard said was, "You'll never know, will you, Harry…" He leaned forward. "I did enjoy your show in first year…"

"You son of a… _you_ did it!" Harry started indignantly, only to be interrupted.

"Harry! Harry come on, it's time!" Oliver and the rest of the team were standing by the gates, watching him with perplexed expressions.

"Uh, yeah, sure, I'm coming!" Harry called back. He discreetly moved back, hoping the team hadn't noticed how close he and Tom had been standing. To the amused Slytherin, he said, "So you're coming to watch? I remember you saying that Quidditch was too trivial to hold your interest…unless of course you're coming because your intelligence has reduced to a level where you find Quidditch to be _riveting_ …" He stifled a giggle at Tom's twitching eye and spun around towards where his team was waiting.

Less than five feet away from them, he was tugged back to hear Tom's whisper in his ear, "Oh, it isn't Quidditch that brought me here today. It's _you_ I find _riveting_ …" Harry broke out into an incredulous laugh. Tom straightened up with his flawless mask in place to say "Good luck, Harry" in a normal tone of voice.

And then he turned around and strode elegantly away.

Only _Tom_ could make striding look elegant.

Harry turned back to his team – who were sporting gobsmacked looks on their faces, or in the case of the Weasley twins, entertained looks. The girls just looked starry-eyed.

Really. No wonder Tom's fan club was so huge. All he had to do was to turn up, and their hearts went trotting away along with their common sense.

"Harry, that was… _Tom Riddle_!" Alicia's voice was entirely too breathless when she uttered Tom's name. "You _know_ him?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know that he's a pain in the neck. Come on!" He snickered, walking past them.

"…And now give a big round of applause to our _mag_ nificent Gryffindor team!" The Quidditch gates swung open and they shot out into the midst of loud cheering.

 _"_ _Yay, Gryffindor! Gryffindor, go go!"_

Wind in his hair, in his face and on his back, Harry was where he belonged. He did a small dip–spin before the Gryffindors which spurred even louder shouts and shrieks.

"Today's match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor is about to begin! The players take their places, Madam Hooch releases the balls, ….and THE GAME BEGINS!"

Harry rose above everyone else, scanning the pitch for a flash of gold. Below him, the others were full on the game and he could see Oliver's relentless practicing paying off. Gryffindor scored thrice within the first hour, while Ravenclaw scored only once.

Cho looked determined to find the snitch, Harry noted when he swept his eyes around. He glossed over the jeering Slytherin stands and came to a stop at a corner of it. Tom stared back at him with a smirk on his face. Arrogant jerk! He huffed and looked away.

Around two hours later, he was mentally groaning. There had been no sight of the snitch – he'd even suspiciously examined if Cho had had it the whole time – and the other players were growing tired. Wood had saved at least six goals, but Ravenclaw had scored, although Gryffindors were still in the lead. Where was the damn snitch?!

As if it had been waiting to be called, the glinting of the snitch caught his attention from close to one of the spectators' boxes. Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry stayed still for a second to evaluate his situation like a good Quidditch player. Cho was way closer to it than he was. So he simply, seemingly aimlessly, drifted over, and when he deemed he was close enough, he raced forward, passed Cho and stretched his arm out to grab the fluttering sphere.

He was right above the box when he swung down and his fingers closed over it.

He heard a shout from below, and Lee Jordan was screaming, "Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor _wins_!"

Then Cho, who had apparently been flying fast after him in a desperate attempt to get the snitch, barged into him unexpectedly, upsetting his already precarious balance, and knocked him off his broom.

He fell a good ten feet and landed on something – no, some _body_ , somebody who gave an outraged growl followed by a groan. His weight must have been too much for whoever it was because they both tumbled off the seat onto the floor.

His elbow and forearm went painfully numb.

He let out a moan of his own as he pried his eyelids open, and saw who he'd used as a safety net.

* * *

 ** _._**

 ** _Readers are invited to guess who our brilliant Seeker, Harry squashed! The next chapter will be dedicated to those who guessed correctly!_**

 ** _Review!_**


	24. Chapter 24 - Reflections

**_Hello everyone! I'm back!_**

 ** _I really must apologize for the long time between updates, but life has been so so busy. I hope you wonderful readers will forgive me and have faith._**

 ** _A big thank you to all of you who left reviews, and offered encouragement in the form of follows and favorites. You guys make me keep writing._**

 ** _So. As for the little excitement of the last chapter..._**

 ** _*drum roll*_**

 ** _This chapter is dedicated to... CaseLC and Snake-Faced! Congratulations my dear reviewers! You two got it right!_**

 ** _A huge truck of love to all who tried to meet my challenge - it was amazing of you guys! Thank you so much!_**

 ** _Enjoy the chapter, and please review before you leave - your reviews are the writer's air._**

 ** _Thank you._**

...

* * *

 _He let out a moan of his own as he pried his eyelids open, and saw who he'd used as a safety net._

No. Way.

He was doomed.

He looked down with an increasingly horrified expression.

 _Snape!_

Snape glared back up at him. The lines on his forehead seemed even more pronounced. "Potter!"

His whole arm was throbbing and going numb in turns. Even his ankle hurt.

"Harry, you all right there, mate?" It was the twins calling from above.

"Ugh, no!" Harry called back up, trying to get to his feet in the least embarrassing way. From what he could see, Snape's leg was at an awkward angle, which would explain why the man wasn't moving.

"Professor, are you alright?" he asked tentatively. Snape couldn't kill him here, there were too many witnesses.

"No, Harry, I'm afraid Professor Snape's leg seems to be broken…" Dumbledore's voice came from behind. When Harry craned his neck from his uncomfortable position to peer behind him, he spotted McGonagall and Dumbledore standing behind their pile of limbs.

Within a few minutes, this section of the box had been cleared, and Harry and Snape were lifted onto stretchers and levitated to the hospital wing. Although Harry noticed with annoyance that McGonagall and Dumbledore seemed entirely too entertained by the turn of events.

 _._

* * *

Some time later, Harry and Snape were lying on beds next to each other, and thoroughly lectured by Madame Pomfrey. Really, as if he fell on Snape on purpose!

"…As if the players getting injured isn't enough, you have to harm innocent bystanders as well!" the mediwitch went on. According to her, Harry's wrist was sprained nastily, but the bandages that had been put on him could be removed within a day. Snape, on the other hand, had, as feared, broken his leg.

From what Harry gathered from the heated exchange between the two grownups, Pomfrey was not going to allow Snape out of the infirmary until she was certain that they were both in perfect health.

Snape, obviously losing, pulled up his classes and homework to be graded into the argument. However, McGonagall popped up and dashed his hopes by giving him a day off, courtesy of her as Deputy Headmistress.

Finally, realizing the entire world was against him, Severus Snape extremely grudgingly admitted defeat in the face of two old determined women.

He sank back on his pillows, crossing his arms and scowling.

"Now, now, Severus, think of this as a holiday." McGonagall attempted to comfort him, but Snape's scowl remained in place.

"I don't _want_ a holiday," he said crossly, and in that moment he looked so much like a petulant child that Harry wanted laugh. It appeared that the potions master hated the hospital wing as much as he did.

"Cheer up, Severus!" came a new voice, and Harry perked up to see Remus striding in.

Severus ignored him. Remus came to stand beside Harry's bed. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry glanced down at his tightly bandaged arm and sighed. "When these bandages can be taken off, I'll be even better."

Remus chuckled. "According to Madam Pomfrey, both of you will have to stay overnight."

"Been consorting with her, have you?" Severus muttered under his breath, obviously no happier than Harry at this news.

A night with Snape right next to him? Why couldn't they have put them on beds in the far corners of the room? It was only the two of them there!

"Oh, and Minerva, there are some of Harry's friends outside. Perhaps you could see to them?" Remus suggested, and Minerva rose at once and headed towards the exit, murmuring about how students never seemed to realize that the hospital wing was a place that demanded _peace_ and _quiet_. Remus patted Harry's uninjured hand. "Get some rest. You'll feel fine in the morning." He stood up, smiled at Snape who glowered back, and left.

Snape and Harry were alone.

Harry cleared his throat. "I didn't fall on you on purpose. But still…sorry."

He should have just kept quiet. Snape turned his venomous glare onto him.

"Of course you're sorry, Potter! It would be a miracle, and possibly too much to ask for, if you exercised at least a minute degree of caution before taking action! But no, you had to go for the typical Gryffindor behavior and perform some kind of foolish stunt that landed us in here! Five points from Gryffindor!"

Harry burrowed his head in his pillows and groaned aloud. He had to spend _hours_ more with this man!

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey bustled in at that moment, breaking up their growing tempers.

"Now, then, Severus, I've brought you some muscle ache reliever, or else you'll be tossing and turning all night long." She tapped a small jar of ointment and rolled up her sleeves. "I'll just apply this on your back and the pain will vanish soon–"

"Madam Pomfrey!"

A first–year Hufflepuff came rushing in, full of a story of how a girl in her year had fallen and twisted her ankle. The mediwitch sighed, waving her wand to summon a huge curtain to separate Snape's and Harry's beds from the rest of the ward. She then followed the distressed girl out, leaving Snape and Harry.

Cautiously Harry ran his eyes over Snape's stiff posture, guessing that he was in pain by the way the man held his shoulders hunched and tried not to move too much. He felt guilty, knowing that it was his fall that had injured Snape.

He slowly eased himself off his bed and padded over to Snape's. The dour man turned suspicious onyx eyes to him as he approached.

"Now what, Potter?"

Harry picked up the jar of salve Madame Pomfrey had placed on the table. "I can apply this for you," he quietly offered. "I can see your discomfort."

"Don't you dare touch me, Potter!" Snape was in a rage, but Harry pressed.

"But you said all this was my fault," he objected. "I'm trying to make up for it."

"I will throw you into a month–long detention if you so much as lay a single of your grubby fingers on me!"

Harry unscrewed the lid and paused. "Professor, I swear I won't cause any more harm. Think of this as an apology. Please." He maintained eye contact with the man, trying to convey his genuine offer.

A surprised look flashed over Snape's features, too fast to be sure. But then he slowly moved a little towards the foot of the bed, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his tunic and shrugging one corner off.

"Just apply it on my left shoulder, Potter. That will suffice." Snape's tones were clipped.

Harry obediently moved to the head of the bed, settling one knee on the mattress and balanced himself with one foot touching the floor.

The salve was cool, so he rubbed his fingers together to warm it up. Next he dabbed small dollops of the warmed salve in a rough circle on Snape's shoulder, and then massaged it in with small, gentle circular motions.

The entire ward had gone quiet save for Madam Pomfey's muted voice at the front along with some other students'.

Snape was as stiff as a board. Harry didn't know what possessed him to do what he did, but, without his conscious approval, his mouth opened and let loose a few words.

"I'm not my father…"

Snape went even tenser if it were possible. Even Harry himself froze. But his tongue didn't. "I really don't know why you dislike him so much, but I'm not him. Ever since that first potions class in my first year, you've _loathed_ me…"

"It was _you_ who was disrespectful, arrogant and–"

"What on earth did I _do_ , Professor? Tell me!"

Snape ground his teeth audibly. "Well, Potter, to start with the very first of your many offences, you were _not paying attention_!"

"I _was_!"

"You were _not_! Stop lying, Potter! You were doodling on your parchment when I was speaking to your class!"

"I wasn't doodling! I was writing down what _you_ were saying!"

Abruptly Harry shut his mouth, a flush showing on his cheeks. Writing down everything your teacher was saying even though he was in a whole new world was a bit…too much. And embarrassing. If he could, he'd take his words back.

Snape was silent for a long moment.

Then, very simply, "You are lying to me."

Harry gaped.

Unbelievable.

"Professor, I'm _not_ lying!" he snapped. "I suppose it's easier to just hang on to your previous conclusions about me rather than opening your eyes to the truth, but I'm tired of being blamed for something I'm not guilty of!"

He had finished applying the salve and had backed away from Snape's bed to his own, casting a silent wandless _scourgify_ on his slippery fingers.

Snape scrutinized him carefully with bottomless black eyes. Harry refused to back down. In the end, Snape adjusted his tunic carefully, before speaking.

"Mr. Potter, if we all knew each and every mistake we make, then our lists of crimes would be very long indeed."

Harry just stared and wondered what _that_ meant.

.

* * *

Fortunately before Harry and Snape could suffocate in the sudden silence, an angel dressed in tartan fluttered in with gifts from heaven.

All right, that was a slight bit of exaggeration. Harry did perk up at the sight of McGonagall. Anyone to break the silence.

The gifts from heaven were actually…

"Tokens from your countless fans, Potter!" She levitated the cards, and the heaps of sweets onto his bedside table. "Madam Pomfrey has forbidden them to see you however." She bustled over to Snape. "How are you holding up, Severus? Does your leg bother you?"

Harry relished the sight of Minerva McGonagall fussing and coddling Severus Snape. She tucked his blankets tightly around him, and fluffed up his pillows.

Snape was not pleased.

"For Salazar's sake, stop fussing! I'm not a toddler that needs to be tucked into bed! Go away!" he paused, noticing Harry stifling a laugh. "And take this infernal brat with you!"

"Now now, Severus, don't shout. You need your rest." McGonagall only seemed more amused the angrier Snape became. "If your leg is healed, Madam Pomfrey will allow you to leave tomorrow." She patted his arm, ignorant of Snape's darkening face. "Have a good night, Severus." She pulled up his sheets a little more before departing.

But she paused at the door, and turned back with a Dumbledore–like twinkle in her eye. "Do try not to eat Potter, Severus. There's a storm coming tonight, and you can cuddle with him if you want."

She was gone before Snape's furious insults could come spewing out of his mouth.

Harry was flushed a bright red. He did _not_ need that mental image.

"There _is_ going to be a storm, isn't there?" he murmured. The sky had darkened, and the wind had picked up.

Snape looked over. "Most likely a bad one," he answered quietly.

.

* * *

Dusk had turned into night. The infirmary was still empty save for Harry and Snape, and Madam Pomfrey in her office.

Earlier, Harry had offered half of what he got from his 'fans' to Snape, only to be met with a cold glare. He had shrugged and dumped them on Snape's table anyway.

However, just because the infirmary was empty didn't mean it was quiet.

"Five points from Gryffindor!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

"Are you implying that I somehow pulled you down from your broom, Potter? Another five points for unjust accusations!"

"You could have dodged!"

"Five points, Potter! Don't raise your voice at me. And to dodge when you seemed to weigh more than a mammoth? A difficult task to carry out in a narrow space, Potter!"

"I can vouch he doesn't weigh at least as much as a mammoth's eyeball, Severus."

Both Snape and Harry whipped around to see Tom at the doors.

"My lord."

"What are you doing here?"

Tom looked offended at Harry's question. "I'm here to see you, of course, darling."

Snape looked ill. Harry looked unimpressed.

"After half a day?"

"Ah, I'm afraid I was kept by a few urgent matters." Tom moved forward in the semi–darkness gracefully, almost as if he was one of the shadows himself. "I have brought compensation."

He held up what he had been carrying to the light.

Both occupants stared.

No way.

A bouquet of red _roses_.

"….Tom." Harry was hardly able to form a coherent word. In the bed beside him, Snape made a choked sound.

Tom looked from Harry to Snape and gave what Harry considered his evil grin. "I seem to have forgotten to bring _you_ flowers, Severus."

Snape made another choked sound.

Harry watched dazedly as the bouquet floated over to him and caressed his cheek before dropping into a conjured up beautiful crystal vase on Harry's table.

Then the hilarity of Tom's words struck him, and he was unable to stop a laugh from escaping. Snape was sporting two spots of colour on his cheeks. Harry considered this revenge for deducting points from Gryffindor.

"You're in pain." Tom suddenly observed.

Harry's laugh abruptly cut off. "What? No."

"You are." He moved so fast that to Harry, one second he was standing at the end of his bed, and the next he was sitting in front of Harry.

"Whoa, I'm fine…" Harry protested, but Tom's eyes just scanned him rapidly.

"Your lower body. Where is the mediwitch?"

Harry would have laughed if it was any funnier. The Dark Lord who had been trying to kill him since he was a baby was worried about him being in pain.

"It's nothing." He shrugged, and then twisted the metaphorical knife deeper. "It doesn't hurt as much as the Cruciatus did."

Tom only reached out with a hand.

"Whoa, stop!"

Harry leaned backwards as far as he could go. " _Don't_ _touch_ _me_."

"Shh." Tom slowly, very slowly skimmed over Harry's abdominal region with his deft fingers. "Was the mediwitch informed of the bruising to his side?" This question was directed to Snape.

"No, my lord…" Snape turned dark eyes towards Harry.

"It's fine!" Harry insisted. "Just a bump–"

"Take off your shirt."

" _What?_ " Harry yelped. That sounded so… _strange_ when it came from Tom!

Tom just _looked_ at him. "Take it off, Harry. Ignoring it will only make it worse."

Harry crossed his arms defiantly. "I'm not taking off my clothes. You can just turn around and walk out."

Snape shifted in the next bed.

Tom just shook his head like a tired parent and…

"Stop pulling my clothes off!"

"You were the one refusing to take it off by yourself."

Harry froze. Either he could allow Tom to take it off and both he and Snape would see his skinny body, or he could just shrug it partly off and leave it like that to save his dignity.

Harry slowly shucked up one side of his baggy tee shirt, hesitantly exposing a huge bruise on his side. He could just _see_ lasers from Snape's eyes.

Tom's face turned murderous. "Clearly, this is _nothing_." The tone of his voice indicated that it was anything but nothing. Harry held in a wince when he prodded at the spot with a gentle finger. Had he slept on it, it would have become worse.

The leftover salve in the jar from which Harry had massaged Snape was scooped up by Tom.

"No way!"Harry retreated again. He wasn't going to let _Tom_ apply it on him.

"Stop being such a child, Harry."

"Trying to protect my modesty is childish?"

Tom traced the rim of the jar idly while he said, "Darling, I would never ravish you on a hospital bed, with Severus right here next to us."

Harry instantly blushed crimson. "Will you please _stop_ that?!" He wouldn't even turn to look at Snape.

"I will if you stop fussing." Tom's voice was back to its cool quality. Harry sighed and shrugged – slightly, careful not to jar his body much.

Tom shifted off the bed, and settled back on, but this time he sat behind Harry at the head of the bed. Harry stiffened immediately.

"Relax, Gryffindor, I'm not about to harass you."

"That's debatable," Harry muttered.

Not deigning with a reply, Tom applied a dab of the slave right on his bruise. The cold slave in contrast with Harry's warm bruised skin made him stiffen up and hiss.

Tom softly shushed him, and continued his methodical applying of the salve. Harry held himself rigid, trying to ignore the feel of Tom's cool slender fingers stroking over his skin.

Until, suddenly, Tom's nails dig into Harry's tender skin.

"Ouch!"

He twisted behind to glare at Tom, but the Slytherin had his eyes fixed on Harry's hips. Harry looked down at himself, and froze when he noticed what got Tom so agitated.

Horizontal bruises marred the creamy skin just above his hips. Faded bruises from when Tom had slammed him against the table in the empty study hall could be seen plainly.

Frowning, Harry tried to wiggle out of Tom's grasp, but the other did not relinquish his grip. Harry looked back at Tom, with a silent command to _–let go you're hurting me!_ At that, Tom immediately loosened his grip, revealing a _new_ set of crescent shaped marks made by the indent of his nails. Both of them looked down at the new addition silently, before Harry turned back into his previous position soundlessly. After a pause, Tom resumed his task of applying the salve. No more words were passed between them.

And if Tom's fingers swept lower to smooth over the old bruises during the massage, neither of them addressed it.

A while passed with Tom massaging his bruised side gently, and Harry sighing in bliss when the pain dulled with every brush of Tom's fingers. Snape was keeping still and quiet over on the next bed.

Not particularly wanting the silence to become suffocating, Harry smirked. "You know what, Tom?" He paused for a second to make sure he had the attention of both Tom and Snape. "You should just chuck the Dark Lord business out of the window and become a Healer."

"Oh really?" Tom responded with amusement coloring his voice, "and why is that?"

"Because you're good at massaging," Harry replied promptly. "And also because the sight of blood probably thrills you."

"Cheeky imp." Tom's chuckle made Harry grin too. Tom seated himself beside Harry, sparing a glance at the silent Potions Master on the other bed.

They three spent a few minutes in silence before Harry started thinking on Snape's weird behavior when Tom was around. The silence, the stillness – all of it was extremely uncharacteristic on the part of Severus Snape.

Could it be that the man feared the Dark Lord? Harry resisted the urge to snort. Severus Snape would never be afraid of anything.

Yet what was it that made him so… Harry chewed on his lip while he thought of the appropriate word.

…Submissive.

That was it. Severus Snape would turn submissive in the presence of Tom at any given time. And it wasn't even as if he was gritting his teeth at doing it. It was almost as if he was used to it.

As if bowing to Tom and addressing him as 'My lord' was second nature to Snape.

Harry cautiously looked at Snape out of the corner of his eye. The normally fearsome professor was still soundless, and had fixed his eyes towards the window on the opposite side, probably watching the darkening sky.

How did Snape become like this? Had he perhaps had an unforgettable experience with Voldemort way before he arrived at Hogwarts?

….Or had he….

Harry couldn't even believe he was contemplating that. But when observing the interaction between Tom and Snape…all the little factors started adding up.

Was it possible that Harry's Potions professor had actually been in the employment of the Dark Lord?

 _Death Eaters_. Lord Voldemort's followers were called Death Eaters. Had Snape been a Death Eater? He must have had _some_ form of connection to Tom; the way he reacted was just too suspicious to indicate otherwise.

Harry frowned to himself. Dumbledore would know. Maybe he could ask him.

Harry's troublesome thoughts were interrupted when Madame Pomfrey bustled into the ward. "Time for another dose of potions, my patients!" she declared, drawing the patients' attention to the vials she was levitating behind her. Pomfrey came to stop at Harry's bed. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave, Mr. Riddle, Mr. Potter and Professor Snape need their rest. Off with you, now!"

Harry stifled a giggle as the Dark Lord was chased out of the Hospital Wing by a not–so–young mediwitch. However, Tom did not seem fazed in the slightest. He simply vacated his spot on Harry's bed, turned to Harry and murmured a soft "Goodnight, Harry" and an even softer "Sleep well", nodded curtly to Snape and flashed a truly charming smile to Madame Pomfrey before sweeping out.

To her credit, Madame Pomfrey did not flush and faint, burst into uncontrollable giggles or jump up and down and fan herself. She did look after Tom's disappearing figure for a second longer before turning to Harry and handing him his potions.

"What a charming boy he is…" she commented with a smile. "He truly cares for you, Mr. Potter. A beautiful friendship it is that the two of you share."

.

* * *

A couple of hours had passed, and Harry was still awake and staring at the white ceiling of the infirmary. It had to be close to midnight by now, but Harry had been unable to even get a wink of sleep. He was tired, but at the same time he was thrumming on the inside with an energy…almost anticipation.

For the hundredth time, he looked over at the only other occupant of the hospital. He couldn't help but suspect that Snape was suffering just as he was – unable to sleep. The potions master had been shifting from side to side for at least an hour. Then he had levitated one of the lamps Madame Pomfrey had left for them to him and produced a book.

Harry had no idea if reading had helped, but the book had been disposed of a couple of hours ago, and Snape had yet to fall asleep

Perhaps it was the weather causing this restlessness in them both. Wind was howling around the castle, and huge raindrops beat relentlessly against the glass of the windows. The sky lit up a deep purple a few times, and thunder rumbled continuously.

The storm that McGonagall had predicted had indeed hit Hogwarts, but with a ferocity that would take anyone's breath literally away if one was foolish enough to step out.

Harry was exhausted. Exhausted from the match, the yelling matches with Snape, and now tossing and turning all night long. Beside all of that, the thrumming through him persisted. He felt like rubbing his hands together in glee, as if that would help alleviate the itch.

Harry burrowed his head into his pillow, sure that he wouldn't get a moment of sleep at all that night. However he was unknowingly proved wrong when he somehow drifted off in a few minutes.

The storm raged on outside.

* * *

 _ **Severus Snape it was!**_

 _ **Please leave reviews if you like this story!**_

 _ **Thank you!**_


	25. Chapter 25 - Midnight Terrors

_**HAPPY NEW YEAR 2017! Hope all of you amazing guys out there had an amazing year, and hope you all will have an even better year. 2017 brings you another 365 days. Fill them with happy times, smiles and laughter. Create memories that will last your lifetime. Live your life to the fullest and have no regrets.**_

 _ **I just want to tell you brilliant readers that wherever you are, whatever you do, whoever you are, you were just marvelous. Thank you so much, many times over, for reading this story, leaving reviews, favorites, and follows. Every single chapter I typed was encouraged by the fact that you guys were waiting to read it.**_

 _ **My wonderful, fantastic readers, thank you so so so much for the 133 reviews, 116 faves, and 200 follows this story has received so far. They make my day, my week!**_

 _ **Your reviews left me determined to write more, better chapters. It's so good to know that my efforts are appreciated.**_

 _ **So once again, my dear incredible readers, thank you.**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy this 25th chapter!**_

...

* * *

Severus Snape jerked out of his light uncomfortable doze when the quiet atmosphere of the semi-lit infirmary was disrupted by a piercing scream.

His head whipped around to see Potter gasping and shifting on his bed, clearly having a terrible nightmare. His hands clenched and unclenched in the bed sheets, beads of sweat shone on his temple, and worst of all…

The curse scar on Potter's forehead was a deep crimson in stark contrast with his pale skin. The trembling body and the painful expression on the boy's face indicated that this was no ordinary nightmare.

Poppy slipped out of her office with a dressing gown wrapped haphazardly around her, a worried look on her face. She too froze at the sight of the inflamed scar prominently displayed on Potter's forehead.

Another horrific scream jolted the two adults into action. Snape slid out of bed, moving quickly over to the next one, while Poppy lit up the hospital wing.

Somehow Snape felt that none of them would be getting any more sleep tonight.

* * *

 _Cold._

He was cold, but he could not possibly be.

He was scared, but he was not at all scared, he was _gleeful_.

He was alone in the cold…

Then there were a pair of hands on him, firmly gripping his shoulders.

"Wake up, Potter!"

It was too cold and windy.

"Potter!"

There were freezing cloaked shadows around him.

" _Potter_!"

He couldn't breathe…they were _too close_ –

Harry woke up with a gasp.

For a moment he had the wild thought that he had to cast his patronas. He shook himself out of it, looking around and taking in the familiar surroundings of the hospital wing.

Both Snape and Madame Pomfey were looking at him strangely.

He realized he was still shaking from the horrible nightmare he had had. But however much he tried, he couldn't stop. It was as if the chill from the dream had seeped into his very bones, and now it wouldn't leave him.

Madame Pomfrey came forward and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, are you all right?"

Harry could only nod shakily.

The mediwitch sighed and produced a vial of something which she then proceeded to pour down his throat. Immediately his tense muscles un-knotted, and some of the cold and discomfort faded from his mind. A Calming Drought.

"Would you like to tell us what happened, Harry?" The use of his first name, if anything, betrayed the woman's worry.

Harry shook his head, the Calming Drought doing nothing to loosen his tongue. His scar throbbed incessantly, and he brought up a trembling hand to rub at it. Immediately the mediwitch and the potions master exchanged glances, before Snape murmured something to Pomfrey. She nodded and disappeared in the direction of her office.

Snape leveled a penetrating gaze at Harry.

"What?" Harry muttered, pushing his glasses up more securely on his nose where he had hastily placed them, and wrapped his arms around himself to try and stave off the chill within him.

The worst of the storm had apparently passed. It was still raining heavily, but the rolls of thunder and bolts of lightning were few and far in between.

Merlin, it was truly cold. He summoned his wand and cast a warming charm on himself, trying to ignore Snape's stare.

But he didn't place the wand back where it was kept. He slid his trembling fingers along its length, and struggled against his instincts to cast his patronas. At the next shiver, though, he succumbed and raised his wand with a shaky hand.

He ignored the "Potter!" from Snape.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A glowing white stag burst out of the tip of wand, and he instantly felt a lot better. The stag pranced around him, and bravely leaped over the scowling Snape who ducked reflexively.

"What on earth are you _doing_ , Potter?"

Harry chose not to reply, instead focusing on the brilliant form leaping around the room, leaving misty white trails behind it. Finally, after one last round, it returned, cocked its antlers at Harry and disappeared.

The cold seemed to return with a rush, even though Harry's patronas had chased away the worst of it.

Only few minutes had passed when Madame Pomfrey emerged from her office followed by Dumbledore.

The old wizard was in pale blue and cream robes, and compared to his normally garish robes, these were nice, so tame that Harry couldn't stop himself from dropping his jaw.

"Harry, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore crossed the distance between them, and seated himself at the foot of his bed.

"Fine, sir…" Harry pushed the unconvincing answer through cool lips.

Dumbledore, instead of calling him out on his lie, turned to Pomfrey. "How are his injuries, Poppy?"

"They've healed well, he's well enough to leave in the morning."

The Headmaster nodded and turned back to Harry. "What did you see, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. He needed Dumbledore to explain what was happening, but at the same time he was reluctant to lay bare his weaknesses. He barely noticed Madame Pomfrey softly excuse herself and disappear back to her office.

His eyes flickered towards Snape who was still standing there.

Dumbledore must have noticed, for he said, "Harry, Professor Snape is a trusted teacher. He as well as I will do our utmost best to help you."

Harry grimaced to himself. "It's nothing…just nightmares…"

"And these nightmares, what are they about?"

Harry just looked up at the Headmaster, unable to say _his_ name out loud, hoping the Headmaster would figure it out.

"They're about Tom…?"

Harry nodded, feeling miserable. "I would rather say _Voldemort_ …"

Dumbledore understood what he meant. "Indeed. How long has this been going on, my boy?"

"A few weeks now…I think…"

"And tonight?"

Harry rubbed his hands together, trying to chase that nonexistent cold away. "Tonight…I don't know…but Tom's not here, is he?"

Dumbledore looked towards Snape and Harry followed his gaze, catching Snape's shake of his head.

"He's somewhere outside…it was very windy…and it was freezing. And I felt…there was this unnatural gloom…a severe chill…and an awful atmosphere…closing in and I couldn't breathe…it was –they were dark…" Harry trailed off as he realized _what_ he was describing. "Yes… _Dementors!_ There were so many dementors…"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "Do you know where Tom is?"

Harry frowned. "No. I don't know where he is." Dumbledore exchanged a glance with Severus.

He looked down at his hands locked together on his lap. _What was Tom doing?_

…

* * *

"Harry?" Remus came striding into the hospital wing, a worried expression on his face. His eyes immediately took him in, scanning over his pale skin and shivering form.

When Remus had woken up to Albus Dumbledore at his fireplace, asking him if he would come down to the hospital wing because Harry would likely need him, he had immediately been afraid that one of his injuries from the Quidditch match had worsened.

He could plainly see now that that was not the case.

The Headmaster, seated on Harry's bed, was wearing a pensive expression on his face – not one he wore often. And Snape was skulking behind, his arms crossed, and his dark eyes fixed on Harry.

Harry himself did not look well. The shivering, the pale face, and the bowed head all indicated that something grave was afoot.

At the sound of Remus's voice, Harry had looked up. His initial reaction had been to smile faintly, before it clearly faded away, as if he only now became aware of his appearance. But Remus had been struck speechless by the lightning bolt mark on Harry's forehead.

It was inflamed, standing out on his forehead like some terrible omen of doom, and Remus suddenly realized the gravity of Harry's situation. Marked by a Dark Lord, thrust into danger at every turn…and now it seemed that a few Quidditch injuries were the least of his worries.

Remus felt a sharp pang in his chest. Harry suddenly looked very small and fragile, sitting cross legged on the white bed. His werewolf instincts reared – _protect him hold him precious cub_ – and it was all he could do not to rush across the ward to engulf Harry in a bear – or rather werewolf – hug.

Instead he strode over to the slender bespectacled boy and sank down beside him. He raised his hand to squeeze his shoulder for some semblance of comfort, but what happened was completely startling.

When he raised his hand, Harry jerked and flinched away.

Remus froze.

Dumbledore and Snape both looked surprised.

Remus's heart plummeted. Clearly Harry was shaken by something, but to refuse his comfort was one thing. To _flinch away_ … It just showed how little Harry trusted him. A lump started forming at the back of Remus's throat. He couldn't stop. He kept letting everyone around him down. He was failing everyone…

"Remus, perhaps we ought to leave Harry to his rest," Dumbledore interrupted his internal breakdown with a knowing look in his eyes. Harry raised his head wearily.

"I don't want to sleep…" he said in a drained voice. Remus hated it. Hated that James's and Lily's son was so weary. So weighed down.

Dumbledore slowly patted Harry's shoulder. "You need some rest, my boy. You haven't slept properly in weeks, have you?"

The defensive way in which Harry hunched his shoulders was all the answers Remus needed.

He wanted to be a house elf for a moment, just so he could punish himself. Harry had been attending his lessons, they'd even had tea together a few days back, and Remus hadn't noticed _anything_.

Snape came forward with a small vial. "Dreamless sleeping drought. You will, hopefully, be dead to the world till morning." Gryffindor though he was, Remus immediately noticed the lack of a sneer on Snape's face.

Snape had spent the night next to Harry. What had happened that was serious enough to bring the _Headmaster_ down to the hospital at midnight? What had happened that was grim enough to temper down Snape's famous hatred of Harry?

 _Why didn't he know anything?_

Harry was eying the potion warily. Dumbledore leaned forward. "You need this reprieve, Harry. Tomorrow will not be an easy day for any of us…"

Harry grimaced. "But–" He suddenly broke off, with a sharp draw of breath, and closed his eyes for a moment.

Dumbledore's fingers tightened on Harry's shoulder. Remus noticed the tense look on the Headmaster's face.

"What is it, my boy?"

Harry did not move for a few silent minutes. But then he sighed and opened his eyes. He opened his mouth, but his voice was so soft that Remus had to depend on his sensitive wolf hearing.

" _He's pleased_."

Remus frowned. What did that mean? It must have meant something, something grave, if the increased tension on both Dumbledore's and Snape's faces were anything to go by. But who was ' _he'_?

Snape held up the vial again. "You need this, Potter. Stop being stubborn."

Still Harry resisted. "No…I– I need to be awake when he returns…."

"That will not help, Harry. I daresay he will not return anytime soon." Dumbledore said.

Remus watched Harry's features blur between exhaustion and worry, and spoke. "Listen to me, Harry. It's past midnight now. You're tired, aren't you? Take the potion. At least you'll be well rested to face whatever this problem is."

A moment of considering later, Harry nodded and downed the potion. As he placed his spectacles on the table with a shaky hand, his eyes were slipping closed. At that moment he looked younger and more tired than ever.

Remus gently eased him onto the pillow and tucked the blanket securely around him to stave off the chill.

All three men stood for a second, staring down at the sleeping thirteen year old.

Then Dumbledore broke the silence. "Well, he'll sleep peacefully for a few hours. Perhaps he had better spend the morning here as well. We shall see. Remus, it's been a tiring night, and I'm sure you wouldn't be opposed to a couple of more hours of sleep. Severus, I'm afraid I'll have to prevent you from following Remus – I would like to speak with you up in my office." Snape inclined his head with another glance at Harry.

"I'm not returning to bed." Remus stated firmly. He gave the sleeping boy a final glance and turned to face the other two adults. "Something serious happened here tonight and I need to know what."

Dumbledore sighed. "Remus, I understand, but I'm afraid there's nothing you can do…"

"No, Headmaster. I've never seen Harry in this state before. I need to hear what happened." He thought of a haunted and hunted man sitting in a lonely house worrying for his godson. "And so does Sirius."

A long stretch of silence followed, broken only by a crash of thunder.

"Very well." Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "However, I believe we had better discuss this at the Headquarters then."

"Of course, Headmaster," Remus quickly interjected, relieved to be getting some answers for once. "We can Floo from my office."

Now the question was, would Remus actually want to hear it once he heard it?

Dumbledore paused on his way out, and gave a long look to the bouquet of deep red roses in the beautiful crystal vase on Harry's bedside table. Both Remus and Severus followed Dumbledore's gaze.

"Those are lovely…" Remus commented softly. Truly they were. The velvet petals were of the highest quality. And, Remus suddenly hysterically thought, gorgeous enough to be a lover's gift.

"Indeed they are, Remus. I wonder who gifted them to Harry." Dumbledore sent an inquiring glance to Snape. "His two friends, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, perhaps?"

"No, they were from…Mr. Riddle."

Remus's eyebrows shot up. _Riddle in Slytherin?_

"Quite the gesture." Dumbledore said slowly, before walking out at a brisk pace.

Remus quickly followed, pushing it out of his head. There were more pressing matters to worry about at the moment.

* * *

...

 _ **I don't know if this was good, but if it was, (and even if it wasn't) please leave reviews for me. I really want to hear your thoughts on this chapter, and on this entire story.**_

 _ **Again, Happy New Year!**_

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


	26. Chapter 26 - Bracing for a Blow

_**Thank you everybody, for the reviews you left! They truly made me write more frequently despite everything that's resting on my shoulders...**_

 _ **But I should tell you, I have to confess that I will not be able to update as much as I would like to because from this Monday onward, I will be up to my neck in work. *shudders* However I will do my best to post regularly.**_

 _ **Would you nice people out there forgive me if I tell you I'm already working on the next couple of chapters?**_

 _ **Leave reviews please!**_

 _ **.**_

* * *

The crackling flames illuminated the hollowed cheeks as Sirius leaned forward from the chair he was sprawled in. In one hand he held a tumbler of whiskey, almost full, from which he had consumed only a few sips.

He didn't like it that he couldn't sleep.

Memories of his time in Azkaban surfaced in nightmares whenever he tried to sleep. More than once he had woken up, panting, drenched in sweat and shivering. It was as if that cold imprint the dementors had left on him would never fade.

Sirius started when the fire abruptly turned green, and Remus appeared in the fireplace.

"Moony?" he questioned worriedly. It was past midnight, and certainly no time for his friend to be flooing in. Moreover, Moony was wearing a rumpled robe over his sleeping attire, and his face was lined with worry.

The arrival of Albus Dumbledore and Snape did nothing to soothe the sudden fear that gripped his heart.

"Is…is Harry alright?" His voice had suddenly gone hoarse.

"He is…unharmed, Sirius." Dumbledore told him. Sirius didn't miss his avoidance of the word _alright_.

All three of the visitors looked serious. Sirius grew more anxious still. "Well, what is it?" he demanded. "Surely there's a reason for all three of you to floo over here in the middle of the night."

Snape spotted his tumbler of whiskey and sneered. Sirius ignored him.

Dumbledore spoke before Snape could say anything. "I'm afraid there is a grave reason for this sudden visit, Sirius."

Feeling the anxiety radiating off Remus, Sirius nodded and led them to the kitchen. "All right, so tell me, what happened?"

Moony was the one who started. "This morning – or rather, yesterday morning, Harry got injured in a Quidditch match…he was knocked off his broom and collided with Snape. Consequently they both ended up having to spend the night in the hospital wing."

Sirius gripped the edge of his chair. "Is he…is it a serious injury?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore hastened to assure him. "In fact, Poppy has already healed him. His Quidditch injuries have nothing to with this." Sirius nodded impatiently. "However, in the night, Severus here who was sleeping next to Harry –" Sirius made a face at this " –was awoken by the sound of Harry screaming."

Dumbledore went on to describe how Poppy had alerted him and he in turn had alerted Remus. Remus pitched in to relate how drawn and pale Harry had looked when they had roused him from his nightmares.

.

But by the end of the story, Sirius was frowning. There was something that didn't fit in here.

"But Headmaster, why was it necessary to summon you all the way to the Hospital wing in the middle of the night just because Harry had a nightmare?"

In his peripheral vision, Snape shot a lightning fast frown at the Headmaster.

Sirius scowled. What right did Snivellus have to know things about _his_ godson that neither he nor Moony knew?

"The truth is, Sirius, Remus, that these nightmares Harry has are not…let us say, not normal."

Remus didn't allow the short pause to continue. "Harry said something about a ' _he_ ' being _pleased_ …What was that about?"

Dumbledore took his time. He flicked his wand first, and a tray of teacups materialized, along with a full teapot that had slight spirals of smoke coming out of the spout. With a couple of more flicks, plain tea had been poured out into the cups, which then floated over to the four wizards sitting around the table.

"All of you know that when Voldemort faced young Harry twelve years ago, he was defeated." Sirius briefly wondered how James' and Lily's child did something as extraordinary as this when he was still a baby. "However…I have reason to believe that Voldemort was only defeated – _not destroyed_."

Sirius felt a shiver run down his spine at Dumbledore's grave tone. He chanced a glance at Remus and saw the man's face horrified. Snape just looked expressionless, and Sirius deduced that he had probably already known.

"Th– that's impossible!" Moony finally got out, his eyes still wide. "It's been twelve years, Headmaster! And according to the stories, his Killing Curse backfired! He couldn't have survived that!"

"Harry survived it." Sirius reminded him quietly. Memories of Harry's visit tumbled through his brain.

.

 _"_ _All I want is to live without having to look over my shoulder for Voldemort."_

 _._

Remus still looked horrified. "But…what does this mean for the future? …What does this mean for _Harry_?"

"Harry has already faced him down in his first year." Sirius interjected again. Remus did not look mollified.

"If we may return to the subject…" Snape trailed off scathingly.

Sirius glared unrestrained at him. Snivellus, of course, had nothing to worry about. No danger-courting teenager to worry about, no threats to his life, and no qualms about the Dark rising once again.

Dumbledore appeared to agree with the slimeball.

"However, the root of the problem is the connection Harry shares with Lord Voldemort."

.

Dead silence.

.

Sirius froze with the teacup halfway to his lips.

 _Connection_ with _Voldemort_? …. _Harry had a connection with Voldemort?_

"What…what do you mean?"

Dumbledore did not look into any of their eyes. "A mind link. That is what connects these two. A mental bond of the utmost rarity."

 _…_

The tea in Sirius's teacup had long since gone cold. He'd lost interest in drinking it anyway.

Moony, on the other hand, clung to the teacup as if it were a lifeline.

Snivellus Snape was sitting like a shadow, silent, condescending, and aware of this knowledge before _they_ were aware of it.

Sirius hated this.

James and Lily died, Wormtail betrayed them, he spent a dozen years in Azkaban, his godson was apparently prone to flirting with death, and now, said godson apparently had a very rare extraordinary empathetic mental link with the dangerous Dark Lord who murdered his parents and almost murdered him.

Wizarding world or not, this was surreal.

The last of the straw was…

"…So Voldemort is whole and alive again? Is that what you're actually saying, Headmaster?"

Sirius felt that Moony was still trying to wrap his head around this.

"Yes, Remus."

Sirius opened his mouth to ask the next obvious question. But Dumbledore interrupted him. "Harry is safe. Voldemort will not attempt to kill him. Nor will any of his followers do so. I am unable to tell you the _hows_ and the _whys_ of this matter, but all I can ask for is your trust."

Another long pause descended.

"How does this relate to the incidents of a few hours ago?" Remus asked. He was looking down into his second cup of tea and probably wishing for something a little stronger.

At Dumbledore's expectant look, Snivellus unstuck his jaws and spoke contemptuously. "Potter is unfortunate enough to be able to feel the Dark Lord's emotions even at a distance. I would deduce that the Dark Lord was involved in some form of activity that brought up vivid emotions in him…strong enough to creep into Potter's mind even through his restless sleep."

"And horrifying enough to make him wake up screaming." Dumbledore gravely added.

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus. This was getting from bad to worse.

"But is there any way that Harry could be…affected by Voldemort's emotions?"

In the few minutes after Snape's chilling tale, Sirius had turned this question over and over in his mind. A cold scalpel seemed to be stuck in his gut, spreading ice.

Snape's face twisted into something ugly.

"Do you fear that Potter will get lost in the mindscape he shares with the Dark Lord? Perhaps you worry that his thoughts and actions are not entirely his? And perhaps, you wish to know if he has been himself, and only himself all this time? Do you want reassurance that Potter has absolutely nothing of the Dark Lord inside him, Black?"

Sirius stayed still in his chair. Snape leaned forward, his dark shadow looming up over the table.

.

" _You will never know_."

 _._

Sirius couldn't even get a single word out of his mouth. What Snape said reverberated around his skull…he clenched his fists and did not look back at Snape.

The room settled back into oppressive quiet again. It was clear that what Snape said had hit Sirius hard.

"That's not true!" Remus protested. "Harry has never been anything but himself! And he's got a very strong will…he won't succumb to Voldemort!"

 _How do you know if he already has?_

It was only when everyone turned to stare at him – Dumbledore with worry on his expression, Moony with horror and disbelief, and Snape with…well, nothing, that Sirius realized he had said that out loud.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Sirius. As Remus said, Harry has a very strong will. And this link – to my knowledge – cannot enable such drastic action."

"But what you implied was that Harry's nightmare was caused by emotions from Voldemort…emotions that reached him through the link."

Sighing, Dumbledore placed his now empty teacup carefully on its saucer. "It only came to my attention last night, Sirius. However, I regret to tell you that these nightmares have been occurring repeatedly from quite some time ago."

"How long?" Remus's voice did not sound normal.

"A few weeks."

Sirius immediately noticed guilt crashing down on Moony. But even through his own heavy remorse, he reached out and squeezed his arm. "It's not your fault, Moony. None of us noticed."

"Harry was always very good at hiding his pain…" Sirius wasn't sure if Dumbledore wanted them to hear it, for he had adapted a far-away look on his face. Tellingly Snape stiffened.

Sirius caught himself from demanding what had happened. Not tonight. No. He would take it one thing at a time. If anything, he had learned much more that the weight of solitude and guilt in his time here in his childhood home.

He swore to protect Harry to his last breath.

"…Tonight after his…dream…or rather, vision, Harry realized that Voldemort was in the presence of quite a number of dementors." Dumbledore picked the story back up.

"Headmaster," Snape interrupted. "I could not find a moment to inform you of this earlier, but a few minutes upon waking up, Potter cast a patronas."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful to the point that Sirius could almost see his mind working. "Perhaps it was to ward off the phantom dementors."

"How is that possible?" asked Sirius, frowning. "I mean, he only saw them. Why did he feel the need to cast a patronas?"

"My conclusion is that Harry sees through Voldemort's eyes, and maybe becomes him for a short while as well. That is the only logical explanation – Harry being able to absorb Voldemort's emotions and distinguish his own simultaneously."

Remus shuddered. "You make it sound like they both share the same body, Headmaster…"

"I fear it is uncomfortably close to the truth."

"If Voldemort was ' _pleased'_ when among the dementors, it can't mean anything good for us."

"That is my concern as well, Sirius. I judge the time has come for us to pick up our mantle again."

Sirius, Remus, and Snape all looked solemn. All three knew what Dumbledore was saying.

"It's time for us to reach out to some old friends."

…

In the early hours of the morning, Sirius amused himself by turning a glass of water round and round on the old surface of the kitchen table. Across the table, Moony was sprawled in another chair, rubbing his eyes repeatedly.

"Moony, go to bed. There are enough bedrooms–"

"Why don't you follow your own advice, Padfoot?"

Sirius fell silent.

Moony sighed. "I can't believe…this…Sirius, I feel like I've been living in a safe bubble…and people like Dumbledore and Snape… _and Harry_ have been living outside it in danger…"

"And now the bubble has popped." Sirius laughed bitterly. "He…He's been having nightmares for _weeks_ , Moony. If this latest one woke him up screaming, how much would you bet that the others are as bad?" Remus looked as worn down as he felt.

"Sirius, if you'd seen the look on his face…it was…it wasn't supposed to be on the face of a thirteen year old child! He…oh Sirius, he looked so exhausted, so _resigned_ to his fate…"

"That's just one side of him we saw, not counting his normal everyday façade."

"You think there's more?"

"There must be. Moony, Harry doesn't have the freedom to be himself. He's constantly watched. And worse, he can maintain a content façade, good enough to fool us all…but when it does crack…it might be too late."

"Don't say that, Sirius." Remus took a deep breath. "V – Voldemort is back…and we can't afford to let Harry build walls around himself!"

Sirius leaned back and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. "You're underestimating Harry, Remus. He's not who you think he is."

Remus sat up straight. "What's that supposed to mean? Sirius, you honestly don't believe that Voldemort is influencing Harry?"

"No. But I know you're projecting your idea of James' and Lily's child onto Harry. That's not him. Bits and pieces, maybe. But there's so much more underneath." He tilted his head down, giving Moony full view of his flashing grey orbs. "But I love him _unconditionally_ , don't ever doubt that."

They stared at each other for a moment, before Remus nodded slowly. "Perhaps…I tried to find James and Lily in him. I know he's under a lot of pressure, Sirius. And now, with these new developments, I…don't want him to buckle down under them."

Sirius knew what Moony wasn't saying. _Even if he does buckle, we'll help him back up and dust him off._

They didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but they would both be there for Harry.

* * *

.

 _ **Ooooh, Sirius' and Remus' new year resolutions? Lol!**_

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	27. Chapter 27 - The Game Has Begun

_**Hello, everyone! I'm back! And I have to apologize to every single person I kept waiting, but real life was threatening to swallow me up, so I had to suffer through a few anti-fanfiction months. I'm extremely sorry that you amazing readers have had to wait for so long. But on a happier note, my exams are over, and I think I can finally breathe. *wink* Thank you to all those who reviewed, favourited, and followed.**_

 _ **I dedicate this chapter to Alp Glide, for the support her PMs brought me.**_

 _ **Thank you everyone, keep reading, reviewing, favoriting and following.**_

.

* * *

Eyelids fluttered open slowly, as if the weight of the world were on them. Harry blinked, once, twice, and enjoyed a minute of quiet peace before the events of the previous night came crashing down on him with all the force of a bucketful of freezing water.

He eyed the sunny weather outside through the windows – such a contrast from the howling storm of last night, and allowed himself a long sigh.

Today was not going to be a usual day at all.

Plucking his glasses from the bedside table, Harry quickly checked his injuries. His wrist seemed fine, and so did the rest of his body. Madame Pomfrey would probably allow him out in the morning.

No sooner had he thought this, the door to Madame Pomfrey's office opened, and she walked briskly out towards him.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter! You're certainly looking well enough to leave. Let me see your wrist…"

After a quick scan, she claimed he only needed a thin bandage for his wrist just to be on the safe side, other than that he was all clear.

He dressed swiftly – McGonagall had brought him a change of clothes – and waited till his wrist was wrapped in bandage again.

He was attempting to flatten his wild hair when Dumbledore strode in, a copy of the day's Daily Prophet in his wrinkled hand.

The blow wasn't going to be a soft one, whatever it was.

…

 _MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN PRISON!_

 _Last night, close to midnight, a mass breakout occurred at Azkaban prison. Quite a number of high level security prisoners have escaped, although no names were disclosed. The fortress, guarded by Aurors as well as the darkest of creatures found on this land – the dementors – in addition to the raging sea all around to make an unlikely escape highly difficult, has been thought of as impenetrable until recently, when notorious mass murderer, Sirius Black, achieved a feat thought of as impossible and escaped the prison and stayed hidden even on the run._

 _All escaped prisoners are speculated to be followers and supporters of You – Know – Who. These prisoners were imprisoned in the days following the end of the First Wizarding War. However, even though the identities of these escapees are yet to be released to the public, Aurors have cautioned that these individuals are extremely dangerous, and SHOULD NOT BE APPROACHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE._

 _It is not yet confirmed if this mass escape was orchestrated by the prisoners themselves, or by an outsider._

 _The Ministry has yet to issue a statement regarding this event._

 _For information on Azkaban prison … turn to page 4_

 _For details about the First Wizarding War … turn to page 5_

 _For information on notorious mass murderer Sirius Black … turn to page 7_

 _For current theories on the breakout … turn to page 8_

…

"Well. I guess there's no question now of where Tom was last night."

At Harry's matter of fact voice, the heavy expression on the headmaster's face lifted a little.

"Indeed. It also explains the presence of dementors you sensed last night."

At the mention of the night before, some of Harry's lightness dissolved. "All those people who he broke out…are they Death Eaters?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "That is my conclusion. You see, among those captured at the end of the last war were Tom's most loyal as well. Those fanatically loyal to him. Their desperation when he disappeared on Halloween 1981 was what lead to their capture, especially the Lestranges."

Harry fell silent. "But _why_ did he break them out?"

Dumbledore gave him a long indecipherable look. "I would assume that he needs them."

 _Needs them for what?_ Harry wanted to ask, but couldn't bring himself to voice it.

* * *

When Harry walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, he immediately noticed the frightened atmosphere of the place. Honestly it was like Sirius's escape all over again. Only a few newspapers were being clutched in the students' hands; many hadn't received theirs yet. Clearly Dumbledore had gotten an early delivery.

As he made his way towards the Gryffindor table, heads began to turn towards him. He sighed inwardly, but made no indication that he noticed their blatant staring. Rude.

Hermione and Ron made space for him as he approached, and he smoothly took his seat. Hermione covertly pushed Ron's copy of the Daily Prophet towards Harry, but he just shook his head, muttering that he already saw it.

Seamus and Dean were giving him looks as well, and two seventh year Gryffindors walked past him with lingering gazes.

Ignoring the stares, he reached for a jug of pumpkin juice.

"Who do you think escaped?" Ron broke the temporary hush first, and that seemed to set the others off.

"Dangerous criminals, no doubt!"

"I expect the next edition will have more details," Hermione put in, frowning over the article.

"You think these lunatics escaped the same way that Sirius Black did?" This question was posed by Dean.

"No." Harry said immediately before he could catch himself. All those sitting around him gave him quizzical looks, but he wasn't going to elaborate.

Many more owls swooped in, and before long, the noise in the hall was rising. Alarmed and scared voices alike called out remarks, some of which Harry found disturbing.

"They say Azkaban is safe! How is it safe if folks are jumping out left and right?"

"The Ministry is quiet…"

"They haven't even caught Black yet!"

"How did they do it? Maybe the wards failed?"

"Is it safe _here_?"

Harry frowned at the last question he overheard. Was it safe in Hogwarts? Sirius had been able to get in, but that was because he was an animagus and because he knew the castle really well.

Besides, the escapees wouldn't have any reason to come to Hogwarts. If the Dark Lord himself was within the walls of the school, would there be any reason for them to enter Hogwarts?

Unless of course…

"Mate…do you think they'll come after you?"

Harry closed his eyes for a second. "I doubt it, Ron. Why would they come after me?"

"Well, I think you being the person who brought down You–Know–Who would be a good reason!" Hermione jabbed a finger at the article. "These people are dangerous, Harry! And I'm pretty sure the Ministry is covering up the worst of it!"

"I agree with you on the last two points, Hermione, but I still don't expect they're going to come after anyone anytime soon."

"But why would they do that? Why would the Ministry hide the bad stuff?" Ron frowned. "Wouldn't that just make people less careful?"

"They fear the public outcry, Ron." Harry dug his fork into his pancakes as he spoke, unconsciously twisting it around. "Think about it. The first escape, Si– I mean Black's escape stirred up the crowds already. It's only been a few weeks since the search was called off. And now they have a mass breakout on their hands while they're still looking for Si– Black. The people are going to blame the Ministry in their fear. Fudge's reputation is going to take a big blow."

Seamus and Dean, who had been watching and listening to him, raised their eyebrows.

"Blimey, Harry! How can you know that?" Dean asked.

Harry waved his hand in the direction of the newspaper. "It's all in there." He looked down at the mess he had made of his pancakes and sighed, bringing a forkful to his mouth and chewing slowly to stave off any questions.

After a few minutes, Hermione nudged him. "Professor McGonagall's coming this way."

Harry tilted his head, and sure enough, his Head of House was bearing down on them, a stern look on her face. However, she did not stop despite having had her eyes fixed on him, but walked straight past.

Feeling a subtle tap on his shoulder, Harry got the hint and waited for her to disappear through the doors before rising and leaving with a muttered excuse.

He found McGonagall in a small corridor close to the doors, and followed her up to her office.

Once they were both seated, McGonagall fixed her sharp eyes on him.

"I trust you've read the newspaper, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded.

"Then I don't need to explain to you that you need to be cautious, Mr. Potter. As the article said, the escapees are dangerous, and should they find a way to breach the security of the school – like Sirius Black did – you could be in danger."

"But have you any reason to suspect they would come after me, Professor?" Harry noted the worried glint in his teacher's eyes, and wondered if she had somehow had access to information more than what had been in the paper.

McGonagall hesitated.

"If they are really going to come after me, won't knowing as much as possible help me to stay safe?" Harry pressed on.

"Well, Albus wouldn't want me to tell you much, Mr. Potter, but I fear you are right." She paused. "The criminals who have escaped last night are indeed followers of You–Know–Who."

"Still, they don't have any reason to come after me."

"They do have a reason; the same reason that many thought was what fuelled your godfather's determination to escape and find you."

"Because I'm the Boy–Who–Lived." Harry bit the inside of his cheek to avoid saying any more. McGonagall was thinking the same way Hermione was, that the Death Eaters wanted to find him and kill him.

But Harry knew he was in no immediate danger. If Lord Voldemort himself didn't have any intention of killing him – and he had had countless opportunities! – then he certainly wouldn't allow his followers to kill him either.

Since he couldn't exactly tell McGonagall this, he stayed silent.

"However I do not want you to worry, Potter. Hogwarts is safe. You will be safe here." She then leaned forward, fixing a very strict expression on her face. "That does mean that you can no longer go on your nightly jaunts. I would advise you keep your wandering about to a minimum. And try not to go anywhere by yourself."

Harry struggled to keep an innocent face. "Of course, professor."

"I would also advise you stay out trouble with Professor Snape for a few days."

Harry blinked, then realized she was talking about Snape lying in wait to catch him in order to enact revenge for what happened at the match yesterday. It almost felt like a week ago.

"Yes, professor," he said with a small grin.

* * *

Students were milling about in the corridors, on their way to their lessons when Harry emerged from McGonagall's office. Some still had copies of the Daily Prophet with them, and many turned to look at him as he passed.

Hiding a grin, Harry sauntered by them, pasting a leisurely look on his face.

If they expected him to cowering in fright, wondering if a Death Eater was lurking around the next corner, they were going to be disappointed.

* * *

Emerging from the Potions lab after the last lesson of the day, Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way up to Gryffindor tower.

"I'd like to go down to the library and see if there's anything more than what's in the text book about Doxy eggs. It would be something extra to add to my essay." Hermione commented as they reached the moving staircases.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! We have four days to hand that essay in to Snape!" Ron protested. All three of them waited for the correct staircase to shift over to them.

Harry wasn't actively participating in the banter. He was more focused on ignoring the glances from those milling around.

He had gotten through the day without reaching his limit, but even though the stares had dwindled down to glances, the interest in him didn't fade completely. He fought the urge scoff.

"Hello, Sir Nicholas!" The Weasley twins chorused from behind him, making him jump and look up. The ghost approached them, nodding graciously to the two redheads before stopping over Harry.

"Harry Potter, Headmaster Dumbledore wished to see you in his office right away."

This time, Harry did sigh. Twice. Once for the summoning, and the second for the fact that Nearly Headless Nick had conveyed his message in _public_.

Now people turned to look at him _again_ , and he frowned and waved to Hermione and Ron before trudging to Dumbledore's office.

Honestly, this was one of those days where he wanted to scream out to the whole world that he was so done with all this.

* * *

"I expect you're quite tired of your peers' discussions about this breakout, Harry. Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you sir."

"Ah well, we can do little to quell the waves of curiosity or fear that engulfs the crowds at such times as these." Dumbledore said. He stroked his own beard. "As you might have guessed already, they have been wondering if the Azkaban prison's escaped prisoners will threaten your safety and your life. I would say it is a valid concern, my boy."

"But Headmaster…Why would the Death Eaters come here if they can't kill me? I mean, _Tom_ hasn't made a move against me yet, so I doubt he will give them the liberty to try to kill me."

"You have a convincing point, Harry. Nevertheless, your godfather is not pacified, seeing that he doesn't know of Tom's presence here, and he strongly wishes for you to go to the place where he is currently."

"The…Headquarters, sir?"

"Yes, Harry, the headquarters. Where activity will be resuming once again after twelve years."

A sudden chill gripped Harry's spine. _Twelve years. Activity. Headquarters_.

"Sir? You aren't going to…going to restart some organization from the last war, are you?"

 _War._

"I'm afraid we must all obey when duty calls, my boy."

* * *

 _ **Ta da da! What do you think? Please leave reviews! Thanks again.**_

 _ **I'll do my best to have the next chapter up as soon as possible.**_


	28. Chapter 28 - Here Comes The Order

_**A big thank you to all the reviews and follows and favorites, and the wonderful people they came from, of course. They really do a lot to inspire me to keep writing.**_

 _ **Hope you like this chapter.**_

* * *

Spinning in the green embers and stumbling out of the fireplace, Harry was greeted by an empty room. He followed the sound of voices down to the kitchen where he found Sirius and Remus cradling cups of coffee.

"Harry!"

Before he could reply, he was immediately engulfed in a warm hug by Sirius. He weakly clutched back, trying to pretend he had come home after a normal day of being a normal person.

When Sirius did pull back, Remus approached with a shaky smile and proceeded to squeeze his arm, and ask after his injuries.

Harry answered that he was all healed up, and that the bandage on his wrist was merely for precaution.

An awkward silence settled over the kitchen, with Harry running his thumbnail over the edge of his bandage, and Sirius and Remus looking at him, looking at each other, and back at him.

After the fourth time Remus had glanced at his forehead, Harry couldn't stand it. "Please stop that," he said in a quiet voice, but he wondered if it had come out louder than he intended, for the silence seemed to become even worse.

"Prongslet?"

Harry smoothed his hair over his scar, looking anywhere but at the men in front of him.

Both immediately seemed to get his meaning, for Remus flushed and offered him an apologetic smile. Harry smiled back, and gladly noted that the tension had diffused once again.

"So, Harry, tell me how you managed to injure Snape yesterday! I wish I'd been there–"

"Sirius!"

"Come on, Moony, he landed Snivellus in the hospital wing! That's definitely a story worth telling!"

"I didn't _mean_ to get him injured, Sirius," Harry protested.

"Stroke of luck then…"

Remus and Sirius continued bickering, and Harry grinned, sinking into a chair and enjoying the show, before he noticed the newspaper lying face down on the table.

He hesitantly pulled it towards him, and turned it over. The familiar damning headlines stared up at him.

The other two fell silent, and turned to look at him.

"So…" Harry said with forced cheerfulness. "Tell me about this organization…"

 _…_

The Order of the Phoenix.

A secret society formed by Dumbledore to fight Voldemort during the First Wizarding War.

Harry stared down at the old photograph that Sirius had dug out of one of the dusty drawers.

"That's the original order." Sirius, sitting next to him, pointed out individuals.

"Marlene McKinnon… She was killed two weeks after this photo was taken. Voldemort wiped out her entire family."

Harry couldn't quite suppress his wince. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Sirius went on. "Then there was Frank and Alice Longbottom."

Harry looked down at the young couple, standing close to each other. Even in the photo, it was obvious that they had devotion and trust between them. "Neville's parents…"

Sirius sighed. "They suffered a fate worse than death, if you ask me." His eyes roved over the group, till they settled on a specific person. "It's been twelve years…and still a day doesn't go by I don't miss your dad."

Harry bit his lip as he let his eyes take in his parents…his mother with rosy cheeks and beautiful wavy hair, and his father next to her, smiling even though the strain of the war must have been weighing them all down…

Next to James Potter, Sirius stood, dressed like a pureblood, but retaining his unique quality. Near Lily Potter, Harry recognized Remus – looking younger, less weary, less scarred, and longer hair…

He steadfastly didn't look at the short man standing next to Remus in the picture.

He passed the picture back to Sirius, who passed it right back. "You keep it. You might see some of the old members soon."

"Sirius…why is Dumbledore setting up the Order again?"

"He's not exactly setting it up, no. He only wants to gather them all, and make sure we're all ready if the need arises." Harry thought Sirius looked pretty grim when he said it.

"But how can you say the Azkaban breakout was orchestrated by Voldemort? They don't even know how they escaped yet!"

"Whether it was Voldemort or not, the inmates were all Death Eaters, Harry. And very loyal Death Eaters at that. They were members of his Inner Circle. They're insane, uncontrollable, and most dangerous of all – _unpredictable_."

 _…_

An hour later, Harry was clasping a mug of warm tea, and still staring at the photo. He wasn't worried about being missed at school, because apparently McGonagall had been asked to provide Hermione and Ron with an explanation of where he was – not the truth, of course, but something along the lines of 'looking out for the boy when there were Death Eaters out for his blood.'

Harry had rolled his eyes when he heard that bit.

Remus came in after a while and sat down across him. "It would seem that the members are quite eager to meet you, Harry," he said. "They all demanded to see you."

Harry looked up, slightly alarmed. "But I'm not obliged to meet them, am I?"

"No, Prongslet, you're not. We'll give you a heads up before the meeting starts, and you can escape to Hogwarts." Sirius said, coming in after a quick shower. Harry had wanted to have a shower too, but had remembered he had no clothes.

"Small mercies," he muttered, and Remus and Sirius exchanged grins.

Harry stared down at the worn photo again. "What actually happened to the Longbottoms?" he asked suddenly, frowning. Neville never spoke about his parents, but then again, he never spoke much.

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks again.

It was Remus who finally spoke after a long pause. "When Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow that Halloween, the Lestranges tracked down the Longbottoms. They tortured them, apparently for information on Voldemort's whereabouts – we don't know for certain – and they used the…" he trailed off.

"The what?" Harry asked.

"…a terrible curse…" Remus said slowly.

Harry looked between the two adults. "What was the curse?"

"The Cruciatus Curse." Sirius answered, only to be met by a scandalized "Sirius!" from Remus. "No Moony, he'll find out eventually."

Remus sighed. "The Cruciatus is an appalling curse, Harry. It's one of the–"

"Unforgivables." Harry said blankly, unable to suppress a shiver when memories of when Tom had tortured him in place of Snape rushed through his mind.

Sirius laid a comforting arm around his shoulders. Remus continued. "Yes. It causes pain like no other. Frank and Alice couldn't tell the Death Eaters what they wanted to hear – mainly because they didn't know – and their torture lasted a long while. By the time help arrived, it was too late."

"Did they…did they die?" Harry asked, almost dreading the answer.

"No. But their minds broke. The torture was too much for them to handle. They're in St. Mungo's now. They've been there for twelve years. Almost comatose. Unaware of anyone or anything. It's so sad."

Harry felt deep sympathy for Neville. To see his parents like that…

"It was there that the Lestranges were captured. They wouldn't have been caught at all were it not for their devotion to their lord." Sirius added.

The _Lestranges_ …

"Who are the Lestranges? I keep hearing about them repeatedly…"

Sirius heaved a sigh and stood up. "Come on, Prongslet. I'll show you."

Harry followed Sirius out of the kitchen, leaving a thoughtful Remus seated in the kitchen.

* * *

The room that Sirius led him to was a rich one, furnished with a thick green carpet on the floor. An ornate tapestry depicting the Black family tree ran all around the four walls. Harry gaped when he saw it. The tapestry itself was ancient, but it was so grand. Embroidered with gold threads that still gleamed in some places, the Black family was displayed for the world to see them in all their pureblood glory.

Large fancy letters at the very top spelled out; _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_. Beneath it was the phrase ' _Toujours Pur_ '. Harry supposed it was the family motto. Since he wasn't the best at French translations, he decided to ask Sirius.

" _Always pure_." Sirius looked back at it. Something flashed across his face…almost like forlornness, if Harry wasn't mistaken.

So many branches…all spreading out to create a giant family tree. Harry spotted a few charred faces among the rest.

"They were blasted off the family tree. Literally." Sirius said to him, with a tight smile, when he noticed Harry examining the black patches.

Harry got the feeling that Sirius wasn't very fond of the room or maybe what it entailed.

Sirius pointed out a woman in the middle. "That's my mother. Walburga Black. Total banshee and utter nightmare."

Harry raised his eyebrows, his lips wobbling with a grin. Sirius gave a sheepish grin in return. "Well, you didn't know her when she was alive. She was awful. Her and my father and their pureblood mania. She still hates me. Thinks I'm a disgrace to the House of Black." At Harry's puzzled look, Sirius explained. "Her portrait still exists, Harry. When I offered the house to Dumbledore to use as Headquarters for the Order, I had hoped we would be able to get rid of her. Unfortunately, nothing we've done has been able to bring it down. It's stuck fast to the wall in the hallway."

"Is that why we're all supposed to be quiet in the hallway?" asked Harry, comprehension dawning.

"Yes. She screams out all sorts of vile things if someone makes a noise and it wakes her up. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I pull back the curtains and we have a shouting match."

"Sirius!"

"She may have given birth to me, but I hate the old hag."

Harry quelled a shudder, feeling suddenly upset. It was terrible to hear about such hatred within families.

Sirius pointed out a particular charred spot. ' _Sirius'_ was said underneath the patch. "My mother did that after I ran away at sixteen. Charming woman that she is."

"Why did you leave?"

Sirius gave a bitter laugh. "I was the black sheep of the family – no pun intended. All my ancestors were sorted into Slytherin. I was the first Black to be sorted into Gryffindor. And I'm proud of it!" Sirius added glaring at the tapestry defensively. "And I didn't agree with my parents on their Dark propaganda."

"Were – were your parents Death Eaters as well?" Harry asked haltingly.

"No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of muggleborns and having purebloods in charge."

"Where did you go when you ran away?"

Sirius smiled fondly at him. "To your dad's. I was always welcome at the Potters." He sighed, and touched another burnt spot. "Alphard Black, my uncle. My mother blasted him off because he left me a huge pile of gold after I ran away. Pity, I actually liked him."

His finger moved to another intact picture of a woman. She had a rather dark beauty about her, but the dangerous tilt to her head screamed out her personality.

"My deranged cousin, Bellatrix. I hated the lot of them."

Harry peered at the name under Bellatrix's. _Rudolphus Lestrange_. "Lestrange."

Sirius sighed. "Bellatrix married Rudolphus Lestrange. Both of them were _madly_ devoted to Voldemort. Especially Bellatrix. She's insane. The third Lestrange is Rudolphus's brother, Rabastan. Damn Death Eaters, all three."

"Do you think they were among those who escaped?" Harry asked.

Sirius smiled grimly. "I know they were. Fanatical followers of Voldemort – they'd die for him. When my cousin was thrown into Azkaban, she had been screaming out that her lord would return." Sirius shook his head. "I wonder if she still has her wits about her…"

"Sirius!" Remus popped his head in. "And Harry. Order meeting in two minutes!"

"I'd better go then," Harry said, looking at Sirius anxiously. Remus grimaced.

"Sorry, Harry…Dumbledore says it's only fair that you meet the Order members at least for a minute or two. I'm afraid you'll have to see them before you return to Hogwarts."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed gustily. "Are you sure he's not advertising me in person as an incentive for the Order members to regroup and prepare for potential war, because most of them might not exactly be jumping at the chance to get involved in a second wizarding war?"

Remus blinked. "What? No, Harry, I'm sure they just want to meet you because…" he trailed off before he could say 'you're the savior'.

Harry looked reluctant.

"Prongslet, you can just nip back to Hogwarts, you know. You don't have to meet them unwillingly."

"I'm just tired, Sirius. It's been a long day, and its night now. I'm not completely up to having my hand shaken within an inch of life and being forced to recite the events of that Halloween night in precise detail. Not to be rude or anything. Sorry."

Chuckling, Sirius pulled him into a warm hug. "Make your escape, Harry. I'll cover for you. Goodbye, and come back soon. And please stay safe, you hear me? Wand with you at all times."

"Yeah…I'll miss you till then, Padfoot. Goodbye."

Remus hustled him upstairs to the fireplace while Sirius went off to make excuses.

"Go on, Harry. It's almost your bedtime now, and close to Hogwarts curfew." Remus said, watching him scoop out some floo powder.

"What…aren't you coming, Moony?" Harry asked surprised. And then he realized he must be waiting for the meeting. "All right, goodnight, Remus. Good luck with the meeting."

"Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

When Harry tumbled out of the fireplace in Remus's office, he found McGonagall waiting for him. After a word of greeting, she led him out and towards Gryffindor tower. When Harry hesitantly offered to go up by himself, McGonagall just gave him a stern look.

"Potter, it was this morning that I told you not to walk about alone. Besides, it is curfew now. I will not have you losing points for Gryffindor."

"Sorry, professor. I lost track of time."

"I suppose you did."

They walked in silence for a while, only the clack-clack of McGonagall's shoes making any noise. Filch appeared at a corner at one point of their journey, but disappeared again when he noticed McGonagall, obviously miffed at having lost an opportunity to give detention.

"Potter, you seem to have made a few new friends lately."

Harry automatically stiffened, dreading where she was going with that line.

"You seem to be very close to Mr. Riddle of Slytherin."

Harry mentally face–palmed. "Well…I guess, professor."

"I have noticed you spend much time with him outside of class as well, Mr. Potter."

"We're not breaking any rules–"

"I am not referring to any rules. But you know, Potter, the pronounced House rivalry between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. I do not want to hear that you have landed yourself in trouble again, understand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gave his Head of House what he hoped was an innocent smile. "Of course, professor."

Ron, Hermione, Remus, Snape, and now McGonagall.

He wondered how many more people were going to warn him away from Tom.

* * *

MASS BREAKOUT: AZKABAN ESCAPEES STILL AT LARGE!

MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

 _The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge has finally released an official statement about the mass breakout occurred approximately 24 hours ago._

 _"We have confirmed that ten high-security prisoners, in the early hours of the morning of the day before yesterday evening, did escape. And of course, the Muggle Prime Minister has been alerted to the danger. We strongly suspect that the breakout was engineered by a man with personal experience in escaping from Azkaban; notorious mass murderer Sirius Black, cousin of the escapee Bellatrix Lestrange."_

 _Alongside the Minister's statement we now have the names of the dangerous individuals who have broken out of Azkaban._

 _Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rudolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Gibbon, Jugson, Mulciber, Selwyn, Travers; all known Death Eaters and followers of You–Know–Who._

 _Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, "We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were a few months ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."_

 _For more information on the escapees, turn to page 2_

 _For more information of Sirius Black, turn to page 5_

 _For more instructions in case of crossing paths with these criminals, turn to page 8_

* * *

The Great Hall exploded with noise.

Harry sighed, laying down his newspaper, and reaching for his glass of pumpkin juice. At least the Ministry had issued a statement, as ridiculous as it might be. Although he was tired of seeing all the fingers pointed towards poor innocent Sirius. It was so unfair!

He carefully prevented his thoughts from straying to Tom like he had come to try to get used to since the nightmare.

(The one time he had tentatively explored the link he had come up against the equivalent of a mental wall. Right, Tom didn't want him to interfere. Point taken.)

But this article would be a sure–fire way to panic the masses. Just look at the reactions of the _students_ in the school. Witches and wizards outside were going to riot. This also meant that any potential chance Sirius might have had to nip outside for an hour or two was lost. People were going to be on the watch for the escaped prisoners and Sirius as well.

Harry clenched his fingers around the handle of his spoon. The more accusations piled up on Sirius's head, the harder it would be to deal with them, if they were to somehow manage to procure freedom for him.

As usual, many students were panicking. All of them wondering if Sirius Black was forming a band of murderers to go on a murderous rampage with. Harry could have rolled his eyes.

Neville looked sick. Harry sighed, knowing that the other boy had taken the escape of the Lestranges hard. Ron and Hermione were gazing at him anxiously.

"Who do you suppose broke this lot out?" Ron asked. "Mental, all of them, I'll bet!"

"Azkaban has that effect, Ronald. It turns people insane." Hermione said, oblivious to the sharp look Harry leveled at her. "Harry, you really need to be careful."

"They won't come after me, Hermione," Harry said firmly. "You don't have to worry."

"How can you be so sure? They're all You–Know–Who's followers!"

 _Exactly_ , Harry wanted to counter, but decided to keep quiet. If anything, they wouldn't try to kill him without their master's orders.

He was safe from this threat at Hogwarts.

* * *

 _ **Review!**_

 _ **The Daily Prophet Article is one I got from Harry Potter Wikia, to which I made a few minor changes.**_


	29. Chapter 29 - Quite a Lot of Opinions

_**Hi! Thank you so much for the reviews and follows and favorites! Keep 'em coming! Anyway, I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long. I am a little slow on the writing side these days, really sorry about that...I just sometimes feel like reading all those good works out there sure beats reading and writing my own fic...not that I'm giving up on Destiny...not when I've spent so much time and effort on it *grins sheepishly***_

 _ **Hope you like this chapter...please review!**_

* * *

In the Headmaster's office, an impromptu meeting was about to commence. Those present included the Headmaster himself, Professor McGonagall, Professor Lupin, and another rather gaunt looking man at whom all of the portraits were throwing nervous glances – the very man who was accused of organizing a mass breakout from the wizarding prison, Sirius Black.

"This is ridiculous!" Sirius snorted, shaking the newspaper with a snarl. "They're all just trying to blame me for their own failings!"

"The people are not aware of that, Sirius. This will fuel panic too quickly for our liking." Minerva said from her spot in one of Dumbledore's chairs.

"What if we say that You–Know–Who is back?" Remus wondered. "Panic aside, at least people will be prepared for…whatever the future will bring."

"I'm afraid that is a lost cause, Remus. After twelve years of peace, the witches and wizards of Britain will be very reluctant to acknowledge the threat that roams amongst us." Dumbledore said. He was at the window, petting a trilling Fawkes.

Minerva spoke. "Albus, how do you know that the Dark Lord is alive? That he is back?"

"I'm afraid I cannot say, Minerva. Nevertheless, he is back. I say that with absolute conviction." Minerva opened her mouth again, visibly frustrated, but Dumbledore interrupted. "What we are able to do at the moment is take action to prepare ourselves. The Order has been alerted, and although we have lost many valuable members during the First Wizarding War, we will be joined by new members."

"Is Harry in danger?" Sirius asked, staring hard at the aged wizard. "You said Voldemort wouldn't attack him, but _how can you be sure_?"

"Again, that is something I cannot divulge to you, Sirius. But please set your mind at peace, for Harry will not be…"

"Don't say he won't be harmed, Albus!" Minerva interjected hotly. "He has been harmed so many times since he set foot in this castle! That mountain troll in his first year! And then facing the possessed Quirrell! And then smashing into the Whomping Willow in his second year, in a flying car, no less!"

"Wait, what?" Sirius pounced on the last, with an astonished face. "Whomping Willow?"

"Although that was his own doing…"

"But what happened? And what flying car?" Sirius persisted.

Minerva pursed up her lips and then told him the story of Harry and Ron missing the Hogwarts Express, and taking Ron's dad's enchanted car to drive to Hogwarts, and then proceeding to crash into the Whomping Willow. At the end of the story, Sirius looked torn between tickled and horrified.

"What else, Minerva?" Remus prompted, and the Scottish woman continued her tirade.

"That rogue bludger, and then the Chamber of Secrets debacle! Upon my word, that boy steps out of one danger to the next!"

Both Sirius and Remus grew somber at the mention of the fabled lair of Slytherin's monster.

"What actually happened in the chamber?" Remus asked hesitantly. "I've only heard bits and pieces from here and there, and I know if I were to ask Harry…well, he would just brush it off or give me the child–rated version."

Minerva shook her head. "I do not know all the details myself. But it was a dark year, and the worst for Harry. He was shunned by the whole school, thought to be the heir of Slytherin, and everyone, even his own Housemates, I am ashamed to say, turned on him."

"But what happened inside the chamber?" Remus asked, pretending not to see Sirius's dark look at the prospect of Harry being rejected by his own friends. "He rescued the Weasley daughter, I've heard, but how?"

Minerva shook her head, and looked to Albus for information. He sighed and adjusted his half moon spectacles. "What happened inside the chamber was a horrifying ordeal, and Harry faced it all by himself. He battled a sixty feet long basilisk, slaughtered it with the sword of Gryffindor, but was bitten by the humungous snake. The venom was potent, and fatal. He would have died within minutes, but for Fawkes arriving to help. Harry Potter's life may have ended that day if it were not for Fawkes." Said phoenix was rewarded with a stroke of his head.

Silence settled, only broken by the sound of Remus and Sirius collapsing onto chairs.

"And this was only in his second year?" Remus asked weakly. "I shudder to think what the future will bring."

Sirius was pale, Dumbledore's ominous words reverberating around his head.

 _A horrifying ordeal… Harry faced it all by himself… fatal... He would have died within minutes… Harry Potter's life may have ended that day…_

"He's safe now, Sirius," Albus said, his gaze resting on the young man who had suffered a truly painful fate.

Sirius didn't respond.

Because he _knew_ Harry.

"You know, Harry reminds me much of a former student of mine." Dumbledore returned to petting the phoenix.

"His father?" Minerva asked, glad to leave the depressing topic of Harry's past.

"Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore corrected.

All three gaped.

" _Harry_ reminds you of _Voldemort_?" Sirius echoed. Fury crossed his face. "My godson is nothing like that murderer!"

"Calm yourself, Sirius. But I am an old man, and I couldn't help but notice the similarities between the two. Harry himself noticed these." At the last sentence, everyone leaned forward, wanting to hear this.

"Perhaps what struck me as odd first was that once, standing in this very office, Harry Potter spoke words to me, about the Chamber of Secrets, the exact words Voldemort spoke to me when I asked him about the Chamber. The resemblance was uncanny, even in my old age."

"Coincidence," Minerva dismissed, and yet looked her companions with a hint of anxiety.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. We can only guess at the number of similarities between these two."

"But we know how different they are to each other too, and _that's_ what counts, Headmaster." Remus said tightly.

"Indeed."

"And the matter at hand? What do we do about it, Albus?"

"At the moment, Minerva, we can only let these events unfold."

"But You–Know–Who could be gathering his followers! Are we to wait till they start going on raids?"

"It is prudent wait to see if there are any raids at all."

Remus looked baffled. "What do you mean, Headmaster? You think the Dark Lord won't do all in his power to resume the war?"

"Again you pose a question I am not at liberty to answer. However, we should all be vigilant, for the absence of open war does not mean the absence of the war itself."

Remus and Sirius exchanged glances. "So we just wait and hope the Ministry will manage to catch my insane cousin and her equally insane pals? The possibility of that happening is close to zero, professor."

"I do share your concerns, Sirius. But this is a very delicate time, especially for you. We must tread carefully."

Any more conversation was cut off by the knock at the door.

Dumbledore glanced at a glass object on his desk. "I'm afraid we will have to bring this discussion to a close now. You should all return to your respective duties anyway. Come in!" This last was said in a raised voice.

In that split second before the door opened, Minerva, Remus and Sirius looked purely horrified. Sirius was sitting right there in plain view of whoever opened the door!

As the guest pushed the door open, Sirius transformed, and Remus rushed to block the view from the person entering. Minerva had stood with her wand in her hand, ready to block any alarm–raisers.

Harry Potter entered with a satchel on his back.

Everyone froze. Minerva; poised for action, Remus; slightly off–balance, Sirius; in the process of trying to dive behind the Headmaster's desk, and Harry with his hand in his robes to pull out his wand at the tense atmosphere.

The door closed behind him.

Simultaneously, everyone relaxed in relief. Only Harry still looked slightly tense, till he caught sight of Padfoot wagging his tail.

"Padfoot!" he dropped his satchel with a big grin on his face, just as the large Grim bounded over to him. The boy flung his arms around the dog, laughing, and pressed his face to his jet black fur.

Minerva only looked slightly uncomfortable, but Albus and Remus were both smiling.

When the two finally broke apart, a frown marred Harry's forehead. "Padfoot, what are you doing here?"

It was Remus who answered. "We just had a small discussion about the news in the Daily Prophet. But it's not safe to be lingering any longer, so we need to get Padfoot back."

Harry nodded reluctantly, a bit irritated at having to watch his godfather leave as soon as the greetings were underway. He gave the Grim a tight hug again, before standing and watching the three leaving.

When the door closed again, Dumbledore gestured to Harry to take a seat.

"How are you, my boy?"

"Holding up, sir."

Dumbledore smiled wanly. "I was hoping to hear a "Fine" from you actually, Harry. I suppose all this has taken its toll on you."

"Hasn't it on us all, sir?"

"That it has, Harry. It must be a difficult atmosphere around your classmates as well. Fear can settle too quickly into the hearts of people."

Harry nodded, waiting for the Headmaster to say why exactly Harry had been called up.

He came to it soon enough.

"Mr. Riddle is still not back."

"I imagine there must be a lot of work included in breaking people out of Azkaban." Harry responded.

Chuckling, Dumbledore plucked a lemon drop from his dish. "I'm afraid Sirius has to bear the blame for that. It has not yet been half a day since the article was published, and I have already received owls from various people demanding to know more, and in many of the cases, questioning the security of Hogwarts."

Harry cracked a smile. "They think Sirius could break in again, this time with his supposed Death Eater friends?"

"I regret to say that is exactly what they fear. One parent has already made arrangements to remove her child from the school until the matter is resolved."

"Their loss," Harry shrugged. He honestly couldn't care less. "Hogwarts is safe, at least from any Dark forces, for now, isn't it sir?"

"You trust Tom not to raid the school with his followers?" Dumbledore asked in an off–handed manner.

"Why would he?" Harry immediately replied. "He hasn't any reason to launch an attack, not when he can walk in and out of Hogwarts when he likes."

Now that he thought about it, it was a huge advantage for Tom to have, and not so good for the Order.

"Indeed. But I'm sure, when he returns he will meet you soon. For the moment, it's best if you return to your lessons, Harry."

* * *

.

A row of vials was arranged neatly, labeled and ready to be packed into boxes.

Snape stared down at them.

Sleeping draughts, Dreamless Sleep draughts, Calming droughts, Pepper Up potions, Anti–paralysis potions, Blood replenishing potions…

All brewed, bottled and labeled with the utmost care. The Dark Lord disliked sloppy work, and to be honest, Severus himself disliked it. But he wouldn't cast a Crucio at anyone who presented him with sloppy work, unlike the Dark Lord.

Severus was no fool. He was entirely aware of the reason the Dark Lord had ordered him to brew these potions.

He was trying to return his suffering followers to their former state.

Azkaban was certainly not a welcoming place. It was surprising that the Black mutt got out alive. Or maybe even the darkest prison known to magical folk rejected the idiot.

Speaking of – or rather thinking of – Black…

His godson was inching ever so close to the Dark Lord. Be it at lessons or leisure, Potter was with him the majority of the time. Too much, in Severus's opinion. Warning the brat had had its consequences, and Severus was not foolish enough to risk it a second time. He couldn't deny his Lord had been on the lenient side, but no doubt his Lord knew that the cruciatus cast on Potter had been as equally painful as it would have been if cast on Severus himself. Watching the boy struggle against the unbearable pain had been one of the many experiences Severus heartily wished he didn't have to keep memories of.

Still, despite the torture he had suffered, Potter had not withdrawn from the Dark Lord. Unnervingly, they seemed to absorb each other a little more each time they were together.

Disturbing.

Besides, other students were going to notice this close…interaction. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Not a good combination – even if the two weren't who they are.

He absolutely did not let his thoughts stray towards another Slytherin–Gryffindor duo that had fallen apart in the most dreadful way.

Potter was, shockingly, spending more time dedicated to his studies as well. Though he had yet to show any significant improvement in _his_ class. This influence on the Dark Lord's part was unforeseen. Why would an enemy willingly strengthen his destined foe?

 _"_ _Do you fear that Potter will get lost in the mindscape he shares with the Dark Lord? Perhaps you worry that his thoughts and actions are not entirely his? And perhaps, you wish to know if he has been himself, and only himself all this time? Do you want reassurance that Potter has absolutely nothing of the Dark Lord inside him, Black?"  
_

...

" _You will never know_."

Severus had also noticed that Potter was gradually changing his everyday life too now. He was convinced Potter did it without awareness, but he couldn't help but pick up on it all too soon. Before Tom Riddle had arrived at Hogwarts, Potter had had a seemingly fixed routine. Meals, lessons, Quidditch practice, killing time with his two friends, and sleeping. Now though, Severus noticed a distinct decrease in the amount of time he spent with Weasley and Granger.

Potter was drifting further away from his friends, whose heads were too immersed in their own petty worlds to take notice.

What he feared now was…would the Dark Lord be able to sway the wind to his favor and bring Potter sailing right into his claws?

Dammit! Harry Potter…not even aware of his actions…caught up in the thick of the cold war–

Not knowing where he would end up.

If only Potter wasn't so comfortable with the man who murdered his parents!

Yet it wasn't an illusion; Potter was truly at ease in the presence of his mortal enemy. Horrifying.

The Dark Lord could don a mask even for someone who had significant knowledge of him, and fool that person. He was capable of the worst kind of deceit, and cover it all up with a handsome face and charming smile.

Potter, like his idiot of a father, had predictably fallen right into the Dark Lord's waiting coils.

A momentary burn through his left forearm stopped all his thoughts and movements.

The Dark Lord was back.

.

* * *

A colony of bats swept past the windows of the Gryffindor common room. Only the faint gleam of their wings helped them be seen, for they blended well into the darkened sky.

"Looks like Snape's had his relatives over this evening!" This statement was met with a round of laughter from the gathered Gryffindors within hearing range, and George basked in the mirth, gesturing to the bats again.

"George!" Hermione said reproachfully, looking up from her extra–credit Astronomy essay. George merely flashed at her a bright grin.

"Wonder if he washed his hair for the occasion…" Seamus sniggered.

Harry looked up sharply. "That was a bit too much," he said evenly. Seamus looked at him in surprise. Hermione nodded approvingly and Ron looked dumbfounded, but not enough to say anything.

"Aw come off it Harry. It's _Snape_ –"

"Who will be collecting our essays tomorrow, and I see you haven't finished yours yet." Harry cut of Seamus' protest. Not bothering to watch the Irish boy flounder between indignation and panic, he turned back to the DADA textbook he had been perusing.

Barely two minutes had gone by when Ron slowly tapped his shoulder. "You alright there, mate?"

Harry blinked. "Yeah…Why?"

The redhead shrugged sheepishly. "Just…you've been a little tense these days. Are you worrying about those escaped convicts?"

"No."

"Oh. All right then."

Ron gave Harry a small grin, and Harry responded with a faint one of his own.

Relative quiet settled again, with Hermione writing her essay, Ron aimlessly staring at his incomplete Divination homework, and Harry silently reading his book.

It didn't last.

A sudden sharp burst of pain from his scar made him hiss and press his fingers against his darkening scar. The pressure on it didn't help.

The pain spiked, but thankfully ebbed away soon. Harry frowned, closing his eyes and trying to focus.

The realization hit him like a Quaffle to the face.

 _Tom was back._

No sooner than he thought this, an image flashed in his mind, via the mind link. _A giant statue…damp floor…water…stone snakes…_

So this was Tom's unorthodox way of asking Harry to meet him.

But the choice of meeting place was quite unexpected–

A fresh wave of pain made him grimace.

"Harry? Are you alright?" He could have groaned. Trust Hermione to spot anything even when in the middle of homework…

"'M okay…"

"You sure, mate?"

"Harry, you've gone pale! Are you going to be sick?"

"No, Hermione, and keep your voice down!" Harry's words didn't come out as steady as he would have preferred.

His scar stung again, drawing another stifled groan from him. Both Ron and Hermione darted their eyes up to his scar which he was rubbing, trying to soothe some of the soreness.

"Is…is your _scar_ hurting?" Ron asked, bewildered.

Harry wished he had friends who were capable of talking softly. All this talk had been heard by his dorm mates, who were discreetly watching him suspiciously.

He didn't have time to tell them stick their eyeballs elsewhere.

"It's fine, Ron. I...I just need some air." He swiftly stood, went into his dorm and dug out his invisibility cloak. Filch was sure to be roaming the halls, with the creepy Mrs. Norris at his heels. He ran back down into the common room, and almost bowled Hermione over.

"Harry, what's going on?" the bushy–haired girl demanded. "Where are you going? It's close to curfew."

"I won't get caught. And don't stay up for me."

"But where are you rushing off to?" Hermione persisted.

His scar stung again, less uncomfortable than before, but still was enough to get his attention. He knew he needed to get a move on. "I just need some fresh air, Hermione. Um, I've a small headache. I'll be back in an hour or so, okay? Don't worry, and no need to stay up." Not sticking around to listen to her reply, he weaved past the students in the room and slipped out of the portrait hole. He glanced back, but the Fat Lady had her eyes closed. Harry speedily threw on the cloak, and made his way to his destination. All the way, his mind whirred with the potential reasons why Tom was calling him to such a secluded place. Was it something to do with Azkaban? Or something else altogether? Why at this late hour?

Despite all the doubts, it never occurred to Harry to not go.

* * *

 _ **Ta da da! What's going to happen when the two finally meet?**_

 _ **I guess this chapter was on the short side, I'll try to rectify that with the next chapter.**_

 _ **So what do you guys think? Of the story so far, the characters, the plot? Let me know!**_

 _ **Thanks!**_

 _ **P.S. - Can you guess where Tom wants Harry to meet him?**_


	30. Chapter 30 - Stained

_**Thank you so much for the reviews! And of course the follows and favourites; you guys are pretty awesome! I'm sorry if I took too long to update, but I was sick the past few days. Anyway, almost everyone who answered my question from the previous chapter gave the correct answer. Congrats!**_

 _ **I hope this chapter will live up to your expectations. (Forgive me if it doesn't)**_

 _ **Please leave reviews! I badly want to know what you think of it.**_

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* * *

Moaning Myrtle was fortunately not in the bathroom when Harry entered. Checking to see if he was alone, Harry made quick work of opening the entrance, and slid down. A whispered " _close_ " in Parseltounge brought the sinks to their usual position, cutting off the gaping hole. Harry cast a quick _scourgify_ on himself, getting rid of the damp and grime, and made his way past the shed skin. With another whispered word, he opened the second entrance and climbed down into the Chamber of Secrets itself.

It had been over a year since he was here last, yet most of it looked the same. A diary and a sickly pale Ginny were missing, of course, and in their place lay a giant basilisk. A giant dead basilisk.

Just like last time, the air was frigid. Just like last time, the giant stone serpents seemed to stare at him. Just like last time, the floor was covered in slimy water.

Just like last time, Tom was standing in the shadows.

Talk about drama.

Harry remembered Dumbledore telling him to "avoid talking about the events related to the Chamber of Secrets" with Tom. Harry had certainly obeyed the warning. Yet here they were.

However Tom had his eyes fixed on the deceased beast rather than on Harry. Not that Harry was complaining. It gave him time to examine the Slytherin from head to toe. He half expected to find something different, but to his frustration Tom had not changed a bit.

Hair as neat as ever, with a single wave swept over his forehead, and pale pink lips; Tom looked angelic. If one were to disregard his red–tinted eyes, they would fall head over heels for him.

Wait. Red–tinted?

Tom was obviously not too happy. But Harry certainly was not going to keep quiet and wait till the Dark Lord decided to address him. He turned, pulled his robes closer against the chill, and started walking back towards the entrance.

A slight clanging noise was all the warning he got. Thanks to his honed reflexes, he managed to side–step the hurtling chains that were aimed from behind him. In doing so, however, he moved into the path of a second cluster of chains. Stumbling as he almost overbalanced, the only thing that held Harry upright was the pale hands wrapped around his shoulders. The chains bound his arms to his sides, and the only movement he was able to do was moving his head.

"And where do you think you're going, little savior?"

"Back to bed." Harry answered smartly, and received a hard squeeze in warning. The Gryffindor didn't back down. "If you think I'm going to stand around waiting for you to deign to speak to me, you're mistaken. Now get these chains off me."

"Prickly, are we?"

"Stop your games, Tom. Why did you want me to come?"

"Straight and to the point, Harry Potter. Very well." Cool hands slid up his arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Warm breath brushed the back of his neck.

"Look around you. What do you see?"

Harry glanced around doubtfully. He knew this wasn't a time for obvious answers, but he had no idea what Tom wanted to hear.

Tom did not wait long for him to reply. He spun Harry around so that he was facing the basilisk, and maintained the strong grip on his shoulders.

Harry took the time to properly examine the huge corpse. The jaws were parted, revealing rows and rows of yellowed fangs sticky with threads of saliva – or _venom_ , Harry's mind piped up. Its muzzle was damaged as well, probably from when the basilisk rammed it against the stone in its attempts to crush Harry. Its bloodied eyes were uncovered, a mess of cornea and viscous blood. The scales gleamed in the greenish light of the chamber. Harry reluctantly admitted to himself, ' _he's magnificent'_.

"Indeed."

"Did I say that aloud?" Harry wondered, blinking. Also, he was coming to a couple of conclusions why Tom wanted to meet him here, and none of them were putting him at ease.

"You admit it. And it is not _he_ , but _she_."

"Oh." Blankly Harry said. He peeked towards Tom who was standing just behind him at his shoulder, and noted his clenched jaw. Not good.

"I expect you know that basilisks can live for thousands of years. She had lived only for a century and a half, if my estimation is correct." His voice was low, yet a faint echo sounded. "She has not felt the warmth of the sun on her scales. She has not felt the scent of spring, bringing her food out of their holes and burrows. She has not met another serpent in her lifetime." Tom's voice grew progressively louder, and Harry discreetly winced. "She has not known freedom beyond these stone walls."

The volume building up in Tom's voice had reached the point where echoes bounced off the walls. And then he suddenly paused. In a notably quiet, but no less chilling, voice, he continued. " _And now she never will_."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Your point?" This had better not be what he thought it was.

Tom's grip tightened painfully for a second. "You, Harry, can find it in your heart to forgive so many, you preach of peace and long for kindness, and yet…yet you…drove a blade through her head…you slaughtered her mercilessly! She had barely lived, before you took her life!"

Harry struggled against the chains angrily. "You've got some nerve, Tom! I didn't slaughter her! I had to kill her to save my own life! As well as Ginny's, and all the other muggleborns who were petrified by this very same serpent!"

"Petrified, not killed!" Tom growled. "Shouldn't the punishment fit the crime?"

"Petrified, not killed, by sheer luck! My best friend would have died if she wasn't the genius she is! So many others would have died if not for dumb fortune! You would allow your precious pet to murder others without reprimand, but you dare accuse me of cruelty!"

Tom swept away towards the corpse, and Harry took the chance to wedge his wand out of his pocket stealthily.

"She is a basilisk, Harry! Her nature doesn't dictate her to go around chasing flies! She was a noble serpent, and she was obeying Salazar Slytherins' noble wishes. Of course you wouldn't understand the meaning of respect, would you Harry?" Tom glared at him. "She was probably the last of her kind, and you singlehandedly brought an end to her breed."

"It was either the end of the basilisks, or the end of the muggle-borns, Tom," Harry retorted, angered. "Wasn't a choice at all." His wand was in his grip now, hidden by the folds of his black robe. "I should add self–preservation to my long list of reasons too, seeing that she was on the verge of killing me…I barely escaped with my life! Would you rather I died and the basilisk lived?" His erratic breathing made the chains press harshly against his body.

Tom's eyes darkened to burgundy. "You must be very proud of yourself then, Harry." His smirk twisted his face till Harry wasn't sure he was looking at Tom Riddle or Voldemort. "A Special Services to the school award, a damsel in distress saved, praise and gratitude heaped upon your very existence…"

"Diffindo!" The chains shattered into a hundred gleaming pieces, landing around his feet with a clanging chorus. "You hypocrite, Tom Riddle! I didn't come looking for the basilisk for fame or glory. I came to save the sister of my best friend. But you, you framed an innocent student and charmed everyone into expelling him, piled the blame of a murder _you_ were responsible for on his head, and acted the part of an innocent orphan to earn _your_ Special Services award. How can you even talk about pride when you committed such an atrocious crime?"

"Cruci– "

"Stop it!" Harry held his wand out in front of him, a number of defensive spells on the tip of his tongue. "You can't fling the Cruciatus curse at me every time I anger you! Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is? That basilisk has been dead for almost a year now, and you choose this moment to mourn her – if it can even be called that. You know, if you loved her so much, why did it take you so long to think of her? If you were so concerned for her health and wellbeing, why didn't you come down here to chat with her…or, or take her out to sunbathe?"

Suppressed rage made Tom's crimson orbs glitter like rubies in firelight. His pale rose lips had pursed up in the way they often did when he was fuming.

But before Tom could let loose any more accusations that were surely building up on his tongue, Harry sucked in a deep breath and continued his tirade, hoping for answers.

"Seeing that we're on the subject of crimes we've committed, why don't we discuss the mass escape from Azkaban that you lead? Let's talk about the murderers you broke out of prison. Let's talk about the criminals that are now roaming free thanks to you. Let's –"

He found a finger pressed against his lips warningly. Tom loomed up over him, face set in a stony frown.

"Perhaps there's less Gryffindor in you than I had originally assumed. Not bad, Harry." The slender finger slid down past his lips down to his chin, where Tom tapped it twice. "Think before you speak."

"Don't evade my question."

"I would have thought you already read the Prophet these past days, lion."

Back to nicknames. Tom had obviously cooled down.

"I think I'd get more details from the perpetrator himself," Harry replied. He pocketed his wand, relaxing his posture to show that hostility on his part was over.

"Many of them are my most loyal."

"Many, not all. Why did you take all of them then?"

Tom tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't do things by half measures."

Harry snorted. "That, or your recruitment program wasn't going well, and you had to resort to getting your old followers back."

"As I said, they have been unfailingly loyal to me. Lord Voldemort rewards loyalty."

"The Lestranges," Harry murmured.

"Among my faithful, yes."

The image of Frank and Alice Longbottom smiling at each other affectionately flashed through Harry's head. "They've done awful things, Tom…"

Something in his tone must have caught Tom's full attention, for he stopped and turned around on his way out in front of Harry. "What are you talking about?"

"Your most loyal followers. They've done…horrible things."

Tom walked back towards him. The serious expression on his face made Harry wonder if he ought to have kept quiet.

"It was war, Harry."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Yes, it was war. He was no stranger to war, and especially its consequences. Yet, when confronted with the aftermath, he didn't know what to feel. He stayed silent. Tom watched him contemplatively.

"Come. There are things you need to learn."

…

"On second thoughts, it would be better if you were returned to your dormitory now. It is far too late tonight for any important discussions," Tom said, when he and Harry were back in the empty girls' bathroom. Harry shrugged, but privately he was glad he didn't have to face 'important discussions' right now. He looked down as Tom closed the chamber. The stairs that Tom had revealed with a hissed command folded into the wall as everything moved back to its correct place.

"Tomorrow night then."

"Yes. Goodnight."

It was only when they parted ways that Harry took out his invisibility cloak and wrapped himself in it, along with a warming charm for the chill from the chamber. Keeping an eye out for Filch, for now it was well past curfew, Harry stealthily hurried up to Gryffindor tower.

.

Only, when he got to the common room, he found himself face to face with a very angry witch.

"Hi." Harry said with an innocent grin. "You guys still up?"

"Harry Potter! You'd better have a very good explanation for this!"

"Yeah, mate. Where did you go rushing off to?" It was then that Harry spotted Ron sitting on one of the couches in his pajamas.

"I…I just needed some air, that's all." Harry said as convincingly as he could.

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Harry?" Hermione asked, glaring. "You needed some air so badly that you grabbed your cloak and ran out minutes before curfew? You're a terrible liar."

"Look guys, just forget it alright? I'm sorry if I kept you guys waiting up, but in my defense I did tell you not to stay up for me." This was apparently the wrong thing to say. Hermione looked angrier, and even Ron was sending him suspicious glances.

Damn, he just wanted to go to bed.

"Where were you, Harry?" Hermione persisted. "Did you get caught by anyone? Why did you sneak out like that? What's happened?"

Harry groaned. "Come on, Hermione, leave it. I only needed fresh air. I just took a short walk."

"Was it something to do with your scar? You were touching it before you left." Hermione kept questioning.

Harry stared at his two friends wearily. Thank Merlin the common room was empty save for the three of them. At Harry's silence, Hermione's frown grew deeper. Even Ron straightened up. "Well, I'm not sure what exactly you guys are thinking, but this isn't what you suspect it is, all right? I wanted fresh air. That's all there is to it. Now, I'd like to go to bed. Goodnight."

He turned towards the boys' dormitory, but Hermione stalked into his path and glared some more. Honestly, Harry had no idea why she was so angry. When he voiced this thought, the bushy–haired witch pressed her lips tightly together, as if to stop herself from launching into another tirade. Harry glanced towards Ron, but his best friend was sitting stiffly with a scowl, eying Harry warily.

Hermione sighed and put one hand on her hip. "Look Harry, I'm worried about you…"

"Why? You've no reason to be," Harry interrupted. Merlin, going down to the Chamber for the first time since last year had been exhausting, not to mention the argument with Tom. His bed was practically singing to him, but Harry wasn't able to fall into bed like he'd hoped he could. His temper too was beginning to flare.

"You've changed, Harry!" Hermione finally burst out. Harry hastily put up a silencing charm. "You're hiding things from us, I know. Ever since we saved Sirius Black you've been off. Harry, you know you can tell us anything."

Harry would have felt guilty right now, but his exhaustion and irritation only let a fraction of the guilt trickle in. His friends were only worried for him, they were trying to look out for him, but that didn't mean they could smother him like this! He could take care of himself, and he wasn't the irresponsible toddler Hermione seemed to address him as.

"Thank you for looking out for me. But please understand this; there's nothing wrong."

"Were you meeting someone?" Ronald finally asked bluntly. Harry whipped around in shock.

"What? No!"

Hermione pounced on this. "Is it true, Harry? Were you meeting somebody? Who?"

Harry stared soundlessly at the two other Gryffindors with clear exasperation. Ron stood to stare fumingly at Harry. "Was it that Slytherin, Riddle?"

When Harry's jaw dropped, Ron decided to take it as a confirmation. "I knew it! You're always sneaking off to meet him! As if it isn't enough after spending time with that slimy git during the day, now you're sneaking out at night to see him?!"

"I– "

Hermione jumped in, not letting him speak. Her brown eyes were narrowed at him. "Say you weren't meeting Riddle, Harry. Look at me and tell me you weren't with him just now."

For all his anger, Harry simply couldn't look into his friends' faces and outright lie to them. His jaw worked, but there was nothing he could say.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You sneaked out to meet Riddle! Harry, how could you?"

"How could I what, Hermione?" Harry snapped. "Meet Tom after curfew? Why? Because he's a Slytherin? Because he showed you up in class? Because you and Ron don't like him?" He was failing to keep it all in, partly because of their anti–Slytherin outlook, and partly because he feared that they might even accidentally draw the connection between his scar hurting and his meeting with Tom. It would be an irreversible disaster if Tom were to be discovered.

At the mention of Tom showing Hermione up in class, the witch gasped in outrage. "I don't know what's wrong with you, Harry, but this isn't like you!"

"Riddle's influence…" muttered Ron from his spot on the couch.

Harry whirled around, unable to believe his ears. "Ron! I know you hate Slytherins, but this is too much, all right!"

"What's too much is how you don't seem to hate them now! You're best chums with Riddle now, for Godric's sake. Who is it gonna be next, Harry? Malfoy? How many more Slytherins are you going to make friends with before you remember that you're a lion, not a snake?"

Harry's jaws met each other with a _clack_. The _disgust_ in Ron's voice…that would be aimed at _him_ if he hadn't interfered with the Sorting Hat's judgment. Harry felt sick.

"Perhaps you need to open your eyes. Both of you."

With that cold sentence, Harry turned on his heel and walked up into his dorm and straight into his bed after depositing his invisibility cloak safely in his trunk.

* * *

.

 _ **So how did you like it? Leave reviews!**_

 _ **The last chapter gained some really cool reviews, and I want to thank those wonderful people. You help me write better chapters.**_

 _ **Void Drake \- Thank you, you made me feel a bit better about taking a while to update ;)**_

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	31. Chapter 31 - One Odd Day

_**Hello world! Thank you for all the reviews and everything, I really appreciate them. So...I decided to grab the chance to update today, and I hope you guys like the chapter.**_

 _ **As always, review!**_

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* * *

Waking up from a disturbed sleep, Harry checked the time and found it was almost two hours till breakfast. He dropped his head back onto his creased pillow and mulled over the happenings of last night.

Tom. The basilisk. Ron and Hermione.

 _Ron_.

 _"_ _What's too much is how you don't seem to hate them now! You're best chums with Riddle now, for Godric's sake. Who is it gonna be next, Harry? Malfoy? How many more Slytherins are you going to make friends with before you remember that you're a lion, not a snake?"_

Talk about drama. Harry groaned softly. He wasn't a snake. Not completely anyway. Besides, this whole House Rivalry was getting ridiculous. Most Gryffindors hated Slytherins on principle, nothing more. He himself had turned down Draco Malfoy's offer of friendship because he had behaved like a prat to Ron, not because he belonged to the House of Cunning. Most of the Slytherins were unlikeable because of their arrogance, their meanness and their sense of superiority. Not because of the crest on their robes.

The Gryffindors' abhorrence even spread to Snape just because he was the Head of Slytherin House. Although Snape probably encouraged the hatred by hating the lions in turn.

But still. Pointless.

Besides, Snape had saved his life! He might grouse and glare and grit his teeth, but he had always looked out for Harry, hadn't he?

Harry stared up at the red canopy of his bed, thinking back to his encounters with Snape.

First year… Potions class…well, that one was difficult to comprehend. For some reason, Snape seemed to hate his father. Hate was almost a word too tame. Harry had no clue why he would despise James Potter to such an extent that he could turn his hatred to his son just because he resembled him closely.

All Harry had heard about his father painted him in a good light. A good man, a brave man, an honorable man. One who had given his life up for his wife and son. Talented. Someone Harry would have made his role model, had he not died.

But what prompted such deep–seated loathing in Snape? Jealousy? His father had been popular, and a marvelous Quidditch player, and from what Harry had seen in his photo album, handsome. But jealousy alone? It wasn't enough to fuel a rage for years.

Jealous or not, Snape had saved Harry's life that first match. And he was the only teacher who figured out the motive behind the troll attack and rushed to stop Quirell from getting the Philosopher's Stone. Not even Dumbledore had done that. Quirell himself admitted that Snape had made things difficult for him. And that was only in first year.

Second year had relatively less Snape–related incidents. The most memorable one was the Dueling Club. Harry remembered with perfect clarity how Snape had disarmed Lockhart…the flawless posture and the powerful incantation; oh it was definitely one of Snape's best moments.

And then there was this year. He did have to admit though, Snape had been a bigger git this year. It probably had something to do with Sirius roaming around Hogwarts secretly, or Remus being appointed as DADA teacher. Snape hated both of them. Harry stretched out his arms and wondered if Snape hated the two because of their friendship with his father. Probably. Still, trying to get Remus sacked because he was a werewolf? That was just a horrid thing to do. Harry grimaced when he remembered knocking the potions professor out in the Shrieking Shack when the man had arrived to help. And yet, Snape had pressed himself in between the trio and a fully transformed werewolf!

The safety Harry had felt when he was held close to Snape firmly was unexplainable. If there was something he learned from the Dursleys that hadn't changed when he arrived at Hogwarts, it was that adults were unreliable.

He had learned it twice, both times the hard way.

But Snape seemed to be reliable. Not that Harry relied on him, but he suddenly wondered what it would have been like if Snape didn't hate him. If he had been Harry's Head of House instead of McGonagall.

Not that McGonagall was inadequate. Just…Snape seemed to care in his own stony biased way.

Harry sat up and dragged his fingers through his wild hair. Being polite and respectful to Snape was difficult. But by Merlin, the man deserved at least that after all he'd done.

The curtains from the next bed rustled, and Harry heard a familiar yawn. Great. Ron was up. Harry located his glasses and resigned himself to a day of cold shouldering.

* * *

It hadn't been unbearable, in a way, Harry reflected. He had gone down to breakfast rather late, and after a single glance at Ron and Hermione sitting together with annoyed expressions, Harry had taken a seat a short distance away. Curling his fingers around a goblet of juice, Harry picked up his copy of the Daily Prophet.

The headlines in big black block letters stared at him.

.

MINISTRY FAILS TO CAPTURE DANGEROUS CRIMINALS

 _Tension has been high at the Ministry of Magic as has been in most public places recently. The Azkaban escapees continue to evade the authorities. A Ministry employee who wished to remain nameless shared her thoughts with the Daily Prophet: "I wish they would wipe these criminals off the streets already! We don't feel safe anymore. My husband doesn't want to go to work anymore, because who knows where those murderers are? Our children have to be kept inside the house all the time."_

 _Another employee also expressed her feelings: "It's absolutely crazy at the Ministry these days. Fudge is frightened, I'll say it. So are many others. Those friggin' folks who sneaked out of prison are murderers of the worst kind. I should know, my best friend lost her uncle to them. Knowin' they're out there, just waiting to kill more innocent folk like us, well, that just makes having no work holidays pale in comparison, eh?"_

 _However, the Head Auror was unavailable for comment. The auror standing in for him did reluctantly speak to the Daily Prophet. "I swear we're doing everything we can. These criminals weren't born yesterday, you know. They have their underhanded tactics to stay under the radar. All of us in the Auror Division are working tirelessly to track them down. … They haven't caused any disturbance yet, we haven't received reports of any raids or break ins, or any murders. Still, we won't halt our efforts to locate them." When asked if the Aurors were also looking for Sirius Black, the Auror gave such a deep groan that our reporter actually paused in his questioning to offer to bring him a Healer. (The offer was declined.) The Auror was decidedly less professional in his second response. "Black is unfortunately still at large, and I believe that he and his bunch of raving madmen might be laying low together. We did use Dementors in several prominent places – such as Hogwarts, although if you remember, it did cause some sort of problem during a Quidditch match…eh…one Dementor attacked a student or something like that, and the Headmaster had a few choice opinions about that case…" At this point the Auror began pulling at the collar of his robes nervously, "My opinion is, if those Dementors couldn't find Black, it's a bit too much to expect us to catch him – not that we're giving up, of course…"_

 _All in all, it seems as if the escapees will continue to evade capture. The Ministry continuously urges all witches and wizards to remain cautious, and come forward if they have any information that will assist the Aurors._

 _._

 _For information on the escaped prisoners, see page 3_

 _._

Harry rolled his eyes and set down the paper. Tom was way ahead of the Ministry, and he would have ensured the protection of his _most loyal_. He doubted the Aurors would be able to capture any of them. He also doubted that those Death Eaters would be swarming the streets to mindlessly kill people. After being imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years, they would need a long recovery period.

He raised his eyes and met the ice blue ones at the Slytherin table. Tom was looking smug. Harry rolled his eyes again and looked elsewhere. His gaze locked with grey eyes also at the Slytherin table, and he stared back. Draco Malfoy looked at him expressionless, and turned away. Harry's brow furrowed. Malfoy had all but avoided him these past weeks. _Wonder why…_

Slowly, Harry became aware of another gaze penetrating the side of his face. He tilted his head to the side and glanced towards the Head table. Snape watched him for a second or two more with dark eyes and then sneered and turned away.

What a strange day.

Harry had sat with Neville in Transfiguration and Charms, and in History. And so on. The trio had avoided each other throughout the day. That is to say, Hermione and Ron avoided Harry and vice versa.

Now, in the common room, Harry quickly finished his assignments and packed his things up. The other side of the room, Ron was fiddling with a chessboard, and Hermione had her nose stuck in a book. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed them watching him curiously as he picked up his bag and stepped out through the portrait hole.

.

* * *

Tom was waiting for him in an almost empty study hall. Harry stepped in, peeked around, and noted the few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs at the tables. Tom was apparently immersed in a large text. Harry noticed with raised brows that Tom's table was empty save for him.

"Hello there, Potter."

Harry turned sharply to face a yellow and black tie. The owner of the tie was smiling at him.

"Hello." Harry smiled back at Cedric Diggory. Cedric's warm hazel eyes were a refreshing change from hostile brown and angry blue, and even cool ice blue. Cedric was carrying a stack of books that he deposited on a nearby table – empty – and gestured to the seat from across him.

"Join me?"

"Uh…" Harry looked back casually at Tom and noticed he was still concentrating on the thick book. Bookworm. "Sure. Why not?"

He took the seat opposite to Cedric and pulled out a Potions essay to work on. A slight twinge in his scar had him turning to look behind him at Tom, but he looked undisturbed.

"So Harry, how are you? A pretty awkward fall it was, wasn't it?" Cedric grinned sheepishly. Harry blinked, and then realized he must be referring to the last Quidditch match.

"Oh, I'm fine. As far as Quidditch accidents go, this one was relatively tame."

"Though I imagine Professor Snape isn't too happy with you…"

Grimacing, Harry replied, "I just hope he won't keep holding a grudge."

They chatted about Quidditch for a while, and Harry began relaxing more and more. Conversing with Cedric was freeing – he didn't have to be careful about what he might let slip. Tom was like a true serpent, always alert, always plotting. Harry had become accustomed to speaking faux casually when he was reviewing every word he spoke. Even with Ron and Hermione, Harry had come to be reserved in conversation, having little to discuss that would be taken well by his friends.

With a jolt, Harry realized that he had inadvertently grown distant with his friends. He had spoken freely most of the time with them, but now, all he could talk about with them was Quidditch and lessons. He was no stranger to keeping things from them, but back in his first two years he had breached almost every topic except that of the Dursleys, and to a small degree, about Voldemort and Dumbledore and his parents. Now there was so much he was hiding…about Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore, the Order, the nightmares, _Tom_ …

Two fingers snapping in front of his face jerked him back to awareness. "Harry, you alright?" asked Cedric looking both amused and concerned.

"Yeah," Harry replied, flushing a little. "Just spaced out for a minute, sorry."

Cedric kept looking at him with that sliver of concern, and Harry hastily tried to change the subject. "So are you prepared for your next match? Against Slytherin?"

"As much as we are able to be. Hopefully we'll give a good game."

"You will, don't worry."

"You'll be coming to watch, right Harry?"

Harry gave a brief grin. "Wouldn't miss it. So you'll have to put on a show for us loyal spectators. "

Cedric laughed, a warm sound from the back of his throat. When it trailed off, however, Harry looked up to see the Hufflepuff's eyes flickering to a spot behind him, where Tom was seated.

Harry didn't turn, but he kept his eyes on Cedric as he asked nonchalantly, "Cedric?"

Cedric's eyes flitted back to him, and he gave a small smile. "I guess _I_ spaced out this time."

They laughed, and Harry leaned forward to peer at the books on Cedric's side of the table. _Intermediate Transfiguration_ was the title on one book.

"I have some extra–credit work to hand in within the rest of the week," Cedric said by way of explanation.

Harry blinked. "Extra–credit? Why?" As far as he knew, only Hermione bothered to do those.

"For extra credit, of course." Cedric answered with a straight face. When Harry gave him an unimpressed look, he broke out into a mischievous grin.

"All right, I figured they would help boost my OWL scores."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed. "You're taking your OWLs this year?"

Cedric nodded. "You count yourself lucky you're still in third year, Harry. You'd cry if you saw how much work the teachers pile on us."

"Obviously they don't pile enough, if you still have time to do extra–credit work," Harry commented cheekily, to which Cedric chuckled.

The Ravenclaw group seated in the far corner got up to leave. Looking over, Cedric frowned and cast a Tempus. "By Merlin, it's almost curfew! Sorry Harry, I shouldn't have kept you for so long."

Harry shook his head while packing his books. "Not your fault Cedric, besides there's more than fifteen minutes left."

"All right, uh, do you want me to walk you to Gryffindor tower?" Cedric asked, scooping up his stack of books. He glanced at Tom who hadn't moved, and then back at Harry.

Harry declined, and Cedric smiled and left. After the doors of the study hall closed behind the Hufflepuff, Harry turned to the only other occupant of the place.

"Tom, it's nearly curfew."

"We can stay for as long as we want to in here," Tom said dismissively, placing a bookmark on his page and shutting the book. "I put up several silencing and repelling charms on the doors. Nobody will bother us tonight."

Harry sneaked a wary glance at the doors. Alone with Tom with nobody able to come in? Not his most comfortable place to be, but he shrugged and sat down across from Tom. For a long moment, the two students sat staring at each other in silence. Then –

"Who was your friend?"

"What did you want to show me?"

Both spoke simultaneously. Harry rolled his eyes. "Ladies first," he said with a gallant wave of his hand since he couldn't exactly bow while seated. Tom ignored the admittedly childish joke and repeated his question.

"That was Cedric, Cedric Diggory. He's captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Fifth year. Why?" Harry narrowed his eyes at Tom. He didn't want a repeat of Colin's accident. No, thank you.

"You and he are friends?" Tom continued.

Harry frowned. "Well, I don't know. I don't speak to him that often actually. Today was the first real conversation we had. Hey, why are you asking?"

"Merely curiosity. Now," Here, Tom produced a thick book from somewhere, and slid it in front of Harry. "Take a look into these pages." Harry scanned the plain brown cover inquiringly, but spotted no title. Flipping it open, he realized why. The book wasn't an actual book, it was more of a collection of records. Turning a couple more pages, he realized they weren't simply records of anything, but of the First Wizarding War.

His heart sped up.

"This is what you wanted me to see?"

"Yes. Peruse further, Harry, we have all night." Tom was looking at him with an unreadable face. "I know you could not find much on the first war, but this book," he tapped the cover with a fingernail, "contains everything. And I mean _everything_."

Harry's grip on the book tightened. It was true. In his first year, he had searched the library for information on the most recent war, but had come up empty–handed save for a few documents that detailed only the actions of Dumbledore's side. There had been of course, newspapers, but after seeing his name splashed reverently across the front pages, he had hastily put them back.

He eyed Tom for a few seconds, and then slowly turned to the first page and began reading.

* * *

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 _ **So what do you think? Let me know in your reviews.**_


	32. Chapter 32 - History of War

_**Hello to everyone...I am so so sorry I took a while to update, but I've been busier than usual these past weeks, and will likely be busy for this month and the next. I know, excuses, excuses. I AM writing; I just don't have much time to proof read, so if you spot any mistakes, forgive me.**_

 _ **A big thanks to the reviews, follows and favorites. Like always, I appreciate them and use them to fuel my inspiration.**_

 _ **I apologize in advance if this particular chapter makes you want to cry tears of boredom - History of Magic WAS on the boring side, and you might find this similar too, but please bear with me because its really important to my main plot, and to several of the side conflicts.**_

 _ **Thank you for your patience, and don't forget to review!**_

 **.**

* * *

Night had fallen, and curfew had passed. In fact, curfew had passed over two hours ago. Harry had spared a thought for his friends, and immediately banished it. Ron and Hermione might be curious, but not worried. Good. He preferred it that way.

Tom and Harry hadn't been disturbed at all since the doors closed. Harry had half feared they ,might be discovered by a teacher or a prefect on their rounds or even Filch, but not a soul had even come near the door. Now he just felt silly for being uneasy. Tom wasn't a Dark Lord for nothing.

Speaking of Dark Lords…

The book, Harry had learned very quickly, didn't sugar coat anything. It was bold as brass. Every record had frank details that allowed him to see a clear picture of each event. He skimmed through the first few, till he got to the section of the book that contained all the death reports. It was like reading through an obituary.

Rows and rows of deaths grimly stared back at Harry from the yellowed pages. He wanted to flip over, but he couldn't peel his eyes away. Besides, he wasn't as stupid as to think that these records could be read by just anyone. Obviously they would have restricted access, and whatever Tom's reasons were for letting him see this, he wasn't going to toss away the chance of more insight to the war.

Names and dates were written neatly on the pages. Harry ran his eyes down the columns, lingering on the names he recognized.

January 1971, three Death Eaters were killed by Aurors. None of the names were familiar.

January 1971 again, two elder members of the Bones family were killed, by Voldemort personally. Harry swallowed before looking up. "Do they have any relation to Susan Bones in Hufflepuff?" He angled the book so that Tom could see who he was referring to.

"Most likely her grandparents."

Harry pursed up his lips at Tom's careless tone, and went back to the book.

May 1972, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Sturgis Podmore had been attacked by a Death Eater named Evan Rosier.

June 1973, a Death Eater named Travers dueled with Fabian and Gideon Prewett, members of the Order of the Phoenix. Travers was severely injured.

October 1974, Mulciber, a Death Eater escaped being apprehended by Aurors, suffered only minor injuries.

January 1977, Sirius Black and James Potter had a skirmish with three Death Eaters who sustained severe injuries. Feeling a good dose of pride, Harry checked the details, and almost laughed in bewilderment. The notes said that the two Gryffindors had levitated a muggle police car towards the Death Eaters who had been on broomsticks.

December 1978, a Death Eater by the name of Walden Macnair was severely injured after a fight with some Aurors.

April 1979, Auror Sirius Black was attacked by Bellatrix Lestrange, no lasting injuries. Harry jolted at this. Casually, without taking his eyes off the page he asked Tom, "Isn't Bellatrix part of Sirius's family?"

"Family members often quarrel. The Blacks were always a quite complicated family."

Harry couldn't agree more. There was something very wrong among the Blacks. He couldn't imagine families harboring so much hate for each other; mothers despising sons, brothers hating brothers, and now cousins trying to kill each other. Was Sirius accustomed to all this?

July 1979, a battle occurred between a group of Death Eaters lead by Rabastan Lestrage and a team of Aurors lead by James Potter. Two deaths.

November 1979, Mulciber was once again hunted down, this time by several Aurors with Sirius Black in charge. Mulciber evaded capture, but could not avoid a degree of permanent damage.

December 1979, a woman called Marlene McKinnon was injured in a duel with Evan Rosier. Harry recognized the name immediately. She was a member of the Order, or more accurately, had been.

January 1980, Evan Rosier was killed in a duel with an Auror named Alastor Moody. The same month, a Death Eater, Wilkes, was killed by Aurors. Harry frowned to himself. Weren't Aurors supposed to capture Death Eaters and turn them in for trials? Why kill them instead of imprisonment?

February 1980, Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom fought a Death Eater, Avery, who escaped with minor injuries.

The next entry had him pausing and quelling a wave of emotion.

March 1980, an Auror patrol lead by James Potter was attacked by a group of Death Eaters headed by Avery. The death of one Auror was the outcome.

Harry couldn't help but being intensely relieved that the dead Auror wasn't his father. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine his father dueling. Would he have a style similar to himself? Did Harry share more than similar appearance with his father? His thoughts turned to his mother. He wondered what his mother had been like in dueling. She would have been magnificent. He imagined her red hair whipping around, her green eyes determined, her movements agile and yet graceful.

"Read on."

"Patience, Tom." Harry scowled at his dream being interrupted.

His father had been quite active in the war, Harry observed. And so had Sirius, despite the fact that some enemies were of his own family.

January 1981, Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom attacked Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange. According to the report, Bellatrix was permanently injured.

March 1981, Travers received severe injuries during a duel with Auror Sirius Black.

Harry noticed grimly that the familiar names were popping up more frequently in the entries.

July 1981, the McKinnon family was killed by a group of Death Eaters headed by Travers.

Later that same month, Edgar Bones and his family were killed.

After those murders, activity exploded. Countless deaths on both sides were recorded within a short time.

August 1981, two Death Eaters were killed in an attack by Aurors. A week later, eight more Death Eaters were killed in another attack on a Death Eater meeting.

September 1981, the Prewett brothers were cornered by a number of Death Eaters lead by Antonin Dolohov. The Prewetts were killed, but there were 4 deaths on the Death Eaters' side too.

September 1981 again, an Order member, Dorcas Meadowes was killed by Lord Voldemort.

During the same month, there were also two Auror attacks recorded, one which killed three Death Eaters, and the other – lead by Auror Moody, Harry noticed – killed a family of five. A family of a Death Eater. Harry suddenly felt sick, wondering if any children had been killed. He had long since grasped what Tom wanted to prove to him. The war was ugly on both sides.

He forced himself to keep reading.

1981 October, Order member Caradoc Dearborn, was abducted, and killed after interrogation. Order member Benjy Fenwick was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange and his body mutilated, during the same month.

After that there were no more deaths recorded. Harry swallowed tightly. "You've forgotten to add my parents to the list," he pointed out, eyes flashing.

Tom gave an elegant shrug. "What is impossible to be forgotten doesn't need to be written down on parchment." Harry glared at him and shut the book. "Now you know."

"Know what?"

Tom looked at him with an unimpressed face. "The so-called light side wasn't above killing, Harry. For all they preach, they killed as much as we did."

"I don't see an alternative."

"You must have noticed how many of my Death Eaters were killed by Aurors. Now tell me, do you know what the standard legal procedure is for apprehended criminals?"

"Apprehended and presented for trial," Harry answered tonelessly. "Which would be the standard procedure if there wasn't a war going on."

"A Death Eater's family was killed." Tom stated.

"You're forgetting the Bones, Tom. And the McKinnons. And the Prewett brothers! There were casualties on both sides!"

"Exactly my point," Tom interjected smugly. Harry stopped short, realizing Tom had driven him to draw the conclusion by himself.

"Right, well, you proved your point. Neither side was innocent. But some blame does lie on the side that started the war in the first place." Harry said.

"Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't just mindless bloodshed," said Tom with a frown. "I had goals, and those who opposed me simply had to be removed."

"The process of removing these people just spiraled out of control? You know there are those who will fight for what they believe in."

"People like Dumbledore."

Harry shrugged. "I don't see they're wrong. If there hadn't been people opposing you and your followers…"

"It would have been an easy victory," Tom finished with a wolfish grin.

"It wasn't even a hard-won victory, though, was it? You _lost_ the war."

Tom stilled for a moment, eyes darkening, before leaning closer to Harry. " ** _Oh, I haven't lost the war, Harry Potter. Far from it._** "

.

* * *

It was past midnight when Harry finally made it to bed. Everyone else in his dorm was fast asleep. He collapsed into bed, put up silencing charms and sighed when his heavy head hit the pillow.

Maybe it was just as well that the Order of the Phoenix had been gathered again.

He would have thought that Voldemort's first fall would have signified an end to the war…but the Dark side was rising again. For a moment he heard screams in his mind, families dying, friends dying, innocents dying…

He didn't know when he fell asleep. All he remembered were the vivid images in his mind.

A giant chessboard. There were fallen pieces on both sides. Only some were still standing, and those that were standing looked battered. Dumbledore's kind face behind the white pieces. Tom's smug face behind the black pieces. Everything was still, almost eerily so.

"HARRYYYY….!"

Harry jolted awake, with his mother's scream still ringing in his ears. He dragged a hand across his wet forehead, and through his damp hair. Another nightmare. A quiet _tempus_ showed the time to be five in the morning. He flopped back and tried to go back to sleep, but seeing the green flash of the Killing Curse behind his closed eyelids wasn't helping. He tossed and turned for another half hour, and then gave up on any more sleep that day.

Nobody was awake, Harry gladly noted. He grabbed his towel and padded into the bathroom, hoping to relieve his stress with a nice long peaceful hot shower.

.

* * *

He went down to breakfast earlier than anyone, and there were only a couple of Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuffs in the Great Hall. Harry discreetly looked towards the Slytherin table, and recognized the single third year seated there. Theodore Nott; brown hair, hazel eyes, thin build. Harry turned his eyes back to his breakfast, and pondered. Nott was apparently a loner, but there was a quiet form of intelligence about him. He wasn't a frequently seen member of Malfoy's gang – in fact, Harry was unsure if he was part of Malfoy's gang at all.

Where in the Slytherin hierarchy was Nott? Or more curiously, where was Malfoy nowadays? Harry wasn't blind or stupid, he had picked up on the fact that there _was_ an hierarchy at all in Slytherin. Slytherin operated differently to the other three Houses. Perhaps it was because it contained so many purebloods. It was subtle politics there, even among the lower years. Malfoy and his gang seemed to rule Slytherin, but surely Tom wouldn't allow Malfoy or even the seventh years to assume authority over him. Moreover considering his frequent absences from school.

But then again, he probably wouldn't sabotage his plans by revealing himself.

Where would he be if he hadn't interfered with the Hat, Harry wondered. If he had taken Draco's hand in first year? If he hadn't been told that Slytherin was plain evil? He loved Gryffindor, he did, and he was proud to be in the House of the Brave, but sometimes he couldn't help wondering. Slytherin's were loyal to each other in public, if nothing else. Unlike the Gryffindors. They kept shunning him for everything. Where was all that famed courage? He remembered with some bitterness his difficult second year. He remembered his two friends who were still not talking to him over a silly misunderstanding. Harry wondered if he would suffer this forced solitude if he were in Slytherin.

 _Get a grip, Harry!_ He mentally shook himself. No point in obsessing over what-if's and deserting friends. He finished his breakfast, and considered just going straight to the Transfiguration classroom for his first lesson. No, that would be just strange. He didn't want to be in class before half the school's population even made it down to breakfast. He could just go sit in an abandoned corridor or the library till it was appropriate time to get to lessons.

He steadfastly didn't allow himself to feel morose about being alone.

Harry swung his bag over one shoulder and made his way out of the Great Hall. He planned to go to the library to see if there were any books about applying good glamours. He seemed to be needing them more often, when he woke up, panting after some nightmare. The glamours hid the circles under his eyes, and saved him from awkward questions. He paused near a glass window pane and peered at his reflection.

He looked normal enough, he supposed. The glamour he was wearing that day was mostly concentrated under his eyes, giving the skin a normal shade. He shrugged to himself and began walking away towards the library.

He was nearing a corner when Snape turned the same corner and the two found themselves facing each other.

Harry managed to keep his face relatively impassive while Snape eyed him suspiciously.

"Up and about this early, Potter?" He asked, sounding suspicious as well.

"Just catching flobberworms, sir." Harry said before he could stop himself.

Either Snape didn't get the reference to 'early bird gets the worm', or he simply chose to ignore it. He narrowed his eyes, and Harry shifted backwards a little till he realized Snape was scrutinizing his face. Or more accurately, under his eyes. Harry subconsciously swiped at his cheek, breaking eye contact and fervently hoping Snape's sharp eyes would not pick up on his glamour.

It worked. Snape straightened, ending his unnerving gaze and flicked his dark eyes to Harry's satchel. "Been doing a little side studying, have you?"

Harry clutched his bag tighter. "Only reading before bed, sir." He looked as innocent as he was capable. Snape gave him one last unreadable look and left him.

 _Whew that was close_ , he thought, picking up his pace. He just didn't want people to notice his condition…next thing the Daily Prophet might proclaim him an insomniac and recommend his referral to St. Mungo's.

* * *

 _..._

 _ ***ducks behind a barrier to avoid oncoming rotten eggs and/or tomatoes***_

 _ **So...what do you think of this chapter? Please let me know in your reviews!**_

 _ **I am terribly sorry if I haven't replied to some reviews...I am a horrible person with too little time on my hands. Still, review?**_


	33. Chapter 33 - Heavy Contemplation

_**Hello everyone, sorry for the late update, but I had some family stuff to get through, haha. Anyways, here we are! Read on! Hope you like it! As always, leave reviews if you think this chapter deserves them! Thanks to the reviews already popped up in the reviews page.**_

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* * *

The weather was getting warmer as winter fully faded away. A slight chill in the mornings lingered, and Harry often dressed warmly for early morning quidditch practice, but the afternoons had more sunshine and the world redressed in green.

However, Hermione's and Ron's attitudes towards him hadn't thawed.

It had been a few weeks now, but they had completely cut off all contact. Not that Harry was entirely innocent in this; he too had actively avoided them. In lessons, in the greenhouses, at meals, in the common room, and in Ron's case, the dorm as well.

Harry was hurt that his friends were taking this so far, but he couldn't do anything about it. And the consternation was, the less time he spent with Ron and Hermione, the more time he spent with Tom. Then when the two Gryffindors spotted them inevitably, they grew irate all over again. It was like a cycle. Harry prayed that nobody would notice, but his hopes were dashed when the twins caught up with him after practice one day and asked if everything was all right.

Harry had answered vaguely, but to his dismay the twins put two and two together quite effectively and went to find their "fathead of a brother".

The talk, if it had happened, had apparently been unsuccessful because nothing changed. Hermione still didn't acknowledge him in any way, but Harry had noticed Ron grin widely at something in his quidditch magazines, then look up with his mouth opening to say something…only to snap shut when he remembered that Harry didn't sit with them anymore. He missed his friends, but he knew he wasn't in the wrong, so he was going to let them make the first move.

On a positive note, all the free time Harry found he had on his hands now, he dedicated to homework. He even reread his essays –something that Hermione used to do for him and Ron.

He was slowly turning into a bookworm. How sad.

When he wasn't doing – or proofreading – his homework, Harry was at Quidditch practice, or practicing spells in the Room of Requirement, or flying. Flying gave him the respite he needed; respite from the backlash from the Daily Prophet articles about Sirius and the escaped prisoners, respite from Tom and his games, respite from his friends' cold war, respite from his nightmares.

His life had turned into a bloody _obstacle course_.

He sometimes felt he hadn't yet come to terms with all of this. Especially about Tom being here in Hogwarts. He should be a lot more freaked out, not taking it in stride. Except that he _had_ taken it in stride – not that it hadn't been useful to keep calm and pretend everything was peachy. But he knew somewhere in his mind that he should've kicked up a bigger fuss. Everything was going topsy–turvy, following the breakout from Azkaban. And that was only what _they_ knew. What else was Tom doing when he disappeared from school?

He wasn't sure that Dumbledore knew either. And thinking of Dumbledore just kicked a can of worms into his sight that he didn't want to open. Harry was supposed to play the part of a tentative friend, and he was definitely supposed to report back to Dumbledore on anything of Tom's that he sniffed out. He had read through the records of Tom's side of the war, information that was secured and privy to very few people, people that were probably high ranking Death Eaters. He was pretty sure that those records were something he should have told Dumbledore about.

But Tom was under no illusions about Dumbledore's involvement. Why then did he let Harry look through such sensitive information? He was in no position to stop Harry from going to Dumbledore, and using an obliviate would be undoing the work Tom did to prove his point. Tom must have known the risk he was taking, letting enemy eyes rove over the pages of the book. He must have known Harry was meant to report any information he got his hands on. _Harry_ knew he was meant to report any information he got his hands on.

He hadn't.

It had been a subconscious decision. A decision that Harry himself wasn't sure he made, but he was stopping to think now.

He _had_ to stop and think. He had to stop and think because the past few weeks had been similar to being dragged over railway tracks by the Hogwarts Express at high speed.

And there were several – _many_ – points he needed to think long and hard about.

One.

 _Snape's warnings_. Snape had treated him with nothing but derision and contempt from the moment he laid eyes on him. Though Harry wasn't convinced if Snape had seen Harry Potter or James Potter. Likely the latter.

But Snape had taken a huge risk in looking out for him. Why do so much knowing he could be under the wrong end of the Dark Lord's wand instantly, were he discovered? Harry knew there had to be a connection between Snape and Tom, and the most likely one was that Snape had somehow been a follower in the past – a Death Eater. Nobody would have eve guessed, but Harry was in an advantageous position to connect the dots, with the mind link he had with Tom, and the few interactions between the two men that he had been privy to.

And if Harry had learned anything from his observations, it was that Severus Snape was a _very good actor_.

There were so many questions flashing in Harry's mind about the evasive Potions Master. Had Snape really been a Death Eater? Did Dumbledore know this little tidbit? Was Snape still working for Tom?

On a more personal note, where was all this hatred of Snape's towards Harry stemming from? Had he known his father well? Had he known both his parents as more than classmates?

What was Snape's objective? Was he truly Dumbledore's man? If so why would he tell Harry to forget about Dumbledore's orders? Why would he have warned him away from Tom? Was it concern for his safety or some other reason?

A couple years ago, Harry would have laughed at the thought of Snape protecting him. Butnow, he wasn't dismissing it. Because he _knew_ that Snape _had_ been watching out for him. Question was, why?

Two.

 _Tom's motives_. Harry had absolutely no idea what Tom wanted to achieve by coming here to Hogwarts. He did have his suspicions, but when he weighed the pros and cons from Tom's point of view, the cons always outweighed the pros. Why then would the heir of Slytherin waste precious time with a charade that brought him relatively no benefits? Unless…the _ultimate prize_ tipped the scales.

So _what_ was the ultimate prize?

Did Dumbledore know what Tom was after? But if he was aware, would he let Harry navigate his way in the dark? Harry considered the kind, twinkly-eyed Headmaster with a frown. He trusted Dumbledore. Wait. Did he?

 _Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?_

 _Why_ would _I?_

Harry jerked himself out of the argument he was constructing in his head. What the hell? When had he not trusted Dumbledore? Trust, not in the all-encompassing way most people did, because Harry knew he was not capable of trusting in others to such an extent, whoever it was. But he did trust the Headmaster, to the extent he could. And that was saying something, for he didn't trust easily.

His mind flashed back to that life-changing Astronomy class many weeks ago. When Tom had revealed the truth of his past, his past actions, and his stance. Harry remembered how the Headmaster had decidedly not been _shocked_ by the revelations.

The stakes were rising every day.

It wasn't just Harry's own life at risk. It was everyone's lives in danger. He wasn't as naïve as to believe that Tom had changed. Well, he _had_ changed, but he was still the bloody Dark Lord! The war could resume at any moment…no matter where Tom placed himself on the giant board. The Azkaban breakout was a clue – but a clue to what, Harry didn't know. All he could put together was that breaking his followers out wasn't just an act of mercy on Tom's part. No, there was more to it. An ulterior motive, just like with everything else Tom planned. Then there was the cryptic avowal Tom made that night he lent Harry the book of records on the First Wizarding war; " ** _Oh, I haven't lost the war, Harry Potter. Far from it._** "

Everything pointed to the Dark Lord preparing for hostilities.

But it wasn't only the Dark Lord, was it? Dumbledore was rounding up the Order of the Phoenix, no matter what he said. They weren't just being alerted to potential danger, they were preparing for a second war. Or so he guessed. Both sides were loading their cannons. It only came down to who would fire first.

 _The Order_. How much did they know? Were they aware of whom Tom really was? Sirius and Remus had no knowledge of the undercover wizard in Hogwarts. But lately Harry had begun to wonder if they knew the truth of his scar – that he shared a connection with Voldemort. Judging by the covert glances Remus had thrown at his forehead when he thought Harry was otherwise occupied, they must know something…or at least must have figured out it wasn't merely a mark from a dark curse.

A sudden chill gripped Harry. _What if Dumbledore had figured it out_ , and shared the knowledge with Remus and Sirius? The more he thought it over, the more likely it seemed. After all, Remus and Sirius knew very little about Harry, whereas Dumbledore was in possession of the prime knowledge of the situation.

This realization had Harry instinctively worried. Though he _had_ placed a degree of trust in Dumbledore, his gut told him that Dumbledore knowing about this was bad. Bad in the sense that it was dire.

Harry's lack of knowledge of this situation was holding him back. He felt like he was in a dressing room backstage being groomed for the next act, while the show went on onstage. Not knowing what happening out front was a huge disadvantage, especially when Harry was dreading that he would be pushed into the limelight sooner or later.

But his ignorance wasn't something a short trip to the library could fix. The documentation of the first wizarding war on which Harry had gotten his hands on courtesy of Tom had given him some insight, but he needed more to see the big picture. He also couldn't ignore the niggling thought at the back of his mind that he might discover Tom's reasons for returning to Hogwarts once he found out everything. Snape was the first person Harry thought would have answers, but his name dropped to the bottom of Harry's – admittedly short – list, when he remembered the agony of the Cruciatus rippling over hi skin. Snape would be a last resort. There was Dumbledore, there was Remus and Sirius, and there was Tom. But their stories would come with bias, and Harry was no longer willing to be content with half the view.

Tom must be rubbing off on him.

More than once, Harry wondered if his life was one big jigsaw puzzle, only the pieces had been sawn to change shape so they wouldn't fit. The result was a collection of jigsaw pieces held together by rubber bands. Those rubber bands stretched when more and more pieces added to the collection, and made an even bigger jumble.

Harry wondered morbidly what would happen once the rubber bands stretched beyond their limit and _snapped_.

…

* * *

 _"_ _Mercy, my lord..."_

 _"_ _Crucio!"_

Harry flopped back in bed and sighed. He'd awoken after yet another nightmare – this one with Tom– _no_ , Lord Voldemort torturing some of his followers. It was just dawn, and nothing he did allowed him back to sleep. Why couldn't he have pleasant dreams for once?

These days his nights were filled with tossing and turning, green flashes, his mother's last words, and Voldemort's torture sessions.

The last was particularly horrible to watch, as grown men were brought to their knees by jets of red light. Harry had long since come to the conclusion that these were visions, visions of what Tom was doing at that very moment, but he had never mentioned it to Tom. Harry wasn't able to recognize any of the Death Eaters he saw, but seeing them at all, was something that would be useful. At least, he kept telling himself that, but after endless nights of interrupted sleep, Harry gave up the pretence of usefulness.

He had to concentrate on not falling asleep in History of Magic, and when downing cups of coffee for breakfast wasn't giving him a caffeine nudge that lasted the whole day, he swallowed his pride to go to Madame Pomfrey.

She was just checking over a seventh year who was tucked into a bed, apparently with a flu, when Harry slipped inside.

"Mr. Potter! What a surprise to see you walking into the Hospital wing of your own volition. Now what can I do for you?"

"Erm…" Harry spent about two seconds internally bemoaning the fact that he hadn't thought up a good excuse for this.

"Mr. Potter? Are you unwell?" It took the mediwitch approaching him with her wand out to get him talking.

"No, I'm fine!" he said hurriedly. "Just uh- I was wondering if…you could give me a Sleeping Drought, Madame Pomfrey…"

"A Sleeping Drought?" Madame Pomfrey looked at him critically. "Are you having trouble sleeping?"

Harry nodded slightly. "Sort of…" Madame Pomfrey ushered him towards a bed. "Uh…no Madame Pomfrey, I just need one vial of the potion." He added under his breath "Or ten."

"Ten?!"

Harry winced. "As many as you can give me, Madame Pomfrey."

She looked at him for a second, and then made him sit on the closest bed while she cast a few diagnostic spells over him.

"How is your appetite these days?"

"Normal…more or less…" _Not more, certainly not more._

Madame Pomfrey seemed to think so too. "You seem to have lost weight, and there are signs of exhaustion and stress. But Mr. Potter, these are due to your sleeping problems mostly, they're not what's causing them." She tapped her arm idly with her wand for a moment before her eyes widened. "Mr. Potter, do you- are you experiencing nightmares on a regular basis?"

Harry deduced correctly that she had remembered that night he stayed overnight in the Hospital wing after the Quidditch match. He nodded slightly. She looked at him briefly while he tried to ignore what were likely the traces of pity in her face. "Very well, Mr. Potter, one moment."

Relieved that the investigation – or interrogation– was over, he hopped off the bed. The mediwitch returned with a small box. "Sleeping Droughts." Harry took the box she handed over, opened it and examined its contents. He estimated there were about ten small vials. "There is no regular dosage, Mr. Potter, so you may take a vial whenever necessary. However, keep in mind not to take more than one vial every four days."

Harry's forehead wrinkled. Every four days? "How long does the effect last?"

"Eight to ten hours." Madame Pomfrey answered promptly. "It is advised that no more than one vial is consumed over four days because the patient may get addicted to it. So Mr. Potter," she leveled a stern look at him. " _Do not overdose_. I trust you will follow my instructions?"

Harry bit his lip. If she was this serious about the warning, he should definitely listen. But that also meant he would only get one night of proper sleep every four nights. Still, that was better than nothing. He nodded, closing the box. "Yes, thank you."

He walked out, not noticing Madame Pomfrey's worried gaze on his back.

.

* * *

 _ **A little filler chapter, sorry if you found it boring, but I couldn't dive into action without having something to base it on.**_

 _ **Review!**_


	34. Chapter 34 - Emotional Times

_**Well hello! I'm back with another chapter that will hopefully be more interesting than the previous... *sweat drop* Updates might get even slower in the next few weeks, because I haven't been writing these days. I'm currently suffering from the worse cold in my history, and it's really hard to be motivated to write when my nose isn't cooperating. Sorry, everybody. Thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews,please keep them coming! Enjoy the chapter!**_

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* * *

Harry straightened up from where he had been leaning against the wall in the shadows, when he spotted the head of blonde hair he'd been watching out for.

"Hi Luna," he said, falling into step with her and swerving to avoid the crowd of eager students rushing toward the Quidditch pitch.

"Hello Harry," she smiled back. "Did I keep you waiting?"

"I don't mind." Harry gave her a good–natured grin. "There'll be plenty of space, no worries."

Luna nodded. "The Nargles have been taking and hiding my things again." She pointed to a yellow and black bee–shaped hair clip on her head. "I found it at the top of the dormitory curtains. It took me some time to get it down."

Harry frowned. "Nargles?" he asked carefully. "Or someone else?"

"I suspect only the Nargles. Who else would have hidden them?"

Harry didn't reply, but he was slowly wondering about something. Still, he didn't want to intrude even though he badly wanted to step in and make sure Luna was alright.

"So" he started with forced cheerfulness. "Which team are you going to support today?"

Luna looked pensive. "The nicer team." Harry took that to mean Hufflepuff. Today's match was between the badgers and the snakes. He climbed the Ravenclaw stands with Luna, not wanting to ruin the match for either Ron or himself with the tension between them. They settled into a corner away from the Ravenclaw third years and Harry cast a light notice-me-not charm around the two of them. He had taken care to dress in neutral colours, so he wouldn't stand out. A grey sweater and black trousers with a grey scarf. He just preferred to avoid any more trouble.

"You mustn't worry, you know," Luna said out of the blue. Harry looked at her, puzzled. "About your friends. Ron and Hermione." Harry bit his lip.

"Well, I'm not worried. Just…out of sorts, I guess."

"There's a lot of wrackspurts circling their heads at the moment," Luna went on in her dreamy voice. "If you like, I can get them two pairs of spectroscopes to see the wrackspurts."

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "Luna, that's very nice of you…but I'm afraid they might not be…receptive of any gifts at the moment." He frowned, thinking about what Hermione – ever trusting in books – would say to Luna and her odd observations.

"That's all right then," Luna said easily. "I don't imagine the wrackspurts will linger for long though."

Harry smiled weakly. "It'll be nice to have things back to normal. And then maybe I can finally introduce you to them."

The blonde smiled and nodded, and looked so content that Harry felt like a wrung out dishrag in comparison. The frown on Harry's face was at odds with the widely grinning faces of the rest of the spectators, and the frown only deepened when another question kept trying to fly out of his mouth. He couldn't catch it in time.

"What about your friends, Luna?"

The blonde Ravenclaw turned to him inquiringly, and he paused for a second, wondering if this was a subject she would prefer not to broach.

 _Oh hell…_

"I meant, what are your friends like?" Because no matter what, Luna was a good friend, and he always looked out for his friends.

She stayed quiet for a few minutes longer than necessary, before she ducked her head in fashion unlike herself. Her voice was softer than usual when she finally answered. "I don't have many."

Harry's lips pressed together when his suspicions were slowly being confirmed. It hadn't been a startling revelation, rather it had been a realization building up over the past weeks. Luna often seen walking alone. Her things going missing. Calls of "Loony Lovegood" in mostly empty places.

Harry hated bullies.

He had intimate knowledge of what it was like to be bullied and not have anybody to turn to for help. All those times when Dudley and his gang had managed to corner him and beat him up, Harry had treated his wounds by himself. Not that it was actually treating them; he could only wash them and keep an old clean rag pressed on the ones that stung the most.

Looking out through his sellotaped spectacles, Harry had seen firsthand how cruel children could be, and how far their mean streak ran.

Luna was being bullied.

He was almost certain that she was being bullied. Thankfully it was nothing physical, but Harry knew only too well how bad psychological abuse could turn out to be. He was a prime example of that, his subconscious flinch whenever he heard the word _freak_ had never stopped.

He didn't know if Luna was in denial, or if she genuinely didn't realize that the daily routine of things going missing wasn't due to Nargles or any magical creature, but rather the work of those who scorned her for being different to the rest of them.

"Your classmates or dorm mates?" he asked gently. She shook her head.

"They don't talk to me much really."

"And the Ravenclaw girls in our year call you…Loony?"

She smiled slightly. "Oh it's all good fun. But I do have a friend in the kitchens called Dobby. You know him too, don't you Harry?"

"Yeah, I know him." Harry worried his lip for a while longer before slowly breathing in.

He turned to face her fully. "Luna, have you told Flitwick or any other professor about your things going missing?"

Luna angled her face up so their eyes met, and he saw a glint of understanding, of warmth and gratitude in her baby blue orbs for a second before her eyelids lowered. "No."

 _And a fat lot of good it would do_ , Harry thought bitterly.

When he was three and Dudley had pushed him into Aunt Petunia's freshly planted gardenias, he had told his aunt what happened after she yelled at him for ruining her garden. He got locked in his cupboard for a whole day with only a glass of water and crust of bread, while Aunt Petunia made her precious Duddikins a meatloaf to cheer him up after the accusations the _freak_ made against him.

He hesitantly touched her shoulder. "If you need to talk to someone, or even just spend time…you know…not _alone_ …or you need help with something…or just _anything_ at all… _I'm here_ , okay Luna?" He looked into her eyes, trying to convey to her what he couldn't put into words, and it seemed like she understood everything he was saying, because she clasped his hand and gave him such a sweet smile which made him wonder how anyone could possible treat her with even the smallest hint of negativity.

…

"Welcome all to this Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin!" Lee Jordan's enthusiastic voice rang out over the pitch. "The teams fly out! We have the Slytherin team entering now, lead by Captain Marcus Flint…AND THE HUFFLEPUFF TEAM! Lead by Captain Cedric Diggory!" Harry craned his neck to see Cedric in his yellow and black uniform leading his team for one round around the pitch.

The players took their positions while Madame Hooch released the bludgers and the snitch, and then tossed the quaffle high up into the air.

Yellow and green blurs swooped in, and the match began. Harry kept his eyes on the two seekers circling the pitch. Cedric and Draco were circling the pitch, ducking bludgers every so often keeping their eyes peeled for the golden snitch.

Beside Harry, Luna was watching the game through a pair of omnioculars, although the angle she was holding them at made him suspect she was looking up at the cloudless sky instead.

By the time the first half hour passed by, Slytherin was leading, 50 to 30. Harry could hear some booing from the Gryffindor stands at the Slytherin team's ruthless playing tactics, but it seemed to make little difference. He glanced at Draco, and found him hovering opposite Cedric, his face set in a scowl.

Luna soundlessly offered him the omnioculars and he accepted them with a murmur of thanks. As a seeker, Harry couldn't help but look for the snitch even from the stands. He swept the entire pitch with a keen eye, and was about to disappointedly hand the omnioculars back to Luna when he caught sight of a golden gleam.

And there it was! Draco and Cedric both spotted it simultaneously when the snitch zoomed in between them obligingly. The volume of the watching students rose spectacularly. The two seekers raced after the little gold ball. Draco's broom was no doubt faster, but Cedric was closer to the snitch than Draco. Lowering the omnioculars, Harry cheered along with the others.

Cedric swerved suddenly when the snitch made a sharp turn, and Harry noted with some vindictive amusement that Draco was even further away now. Harry whooped and yelled out to the Hufflepuff seeker. "Go Cedric!" He wasn't expecting Cedric to actually hear him amongst the other shouts and cheers, but hear he did, and locked eyes with Harry for a split second. A grin split his face, and he surged forward, mindful of Draco rocketing in from behind, and reached out a gloved hand…

And yes! The Hufflepuff stand blew up in a volley of excited shouts as Cedric caught the snitch seconds before Draco Malfoy, and held it up for everyone to see.

…

Climbing down from the Ravenclaw stands, Harry saw Cedric just ahead of them about to leave the pitch with his team. He intended to only drop a quick word of congratulations when somehow Cedric caught sight of them, but the Hufflepuff team captain apparently had other ideas when he came over to them instead of leaving with his team.

"Good game," Harry offered when he was within hearing distance.

Cedric grinned bashfully back. "Thank you, I saw you watching." His gaze fell on Luna. Harry hurried to make introductions. "Cedric, this is my friend Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is Cedric Diggory."

Luna looked up at the taller male with an unfocused look before smiling faintly. "Inner strength in the face of obstacles is an invaluable thing to possess."

Harry blinked. _What did that mean?_

Cedric was apparently wondering the same thing, as he stared at Luna bewildered. Luna, for her part, offered no explanations, and Cedric seemed to put it down to part of her apparent quirkiness.

"Well, nice to meet you, Luna," he offered her a warm smile, and Harry was relieved at the sight of someone other than himself not lashing out at Luna's peculiarities. He gave Cedric a brilliant smile in response.

Cedric paused, and smiled shyly back, a faint flush on his already reddened cheeks and mumbled something about showering.

Cedric was cool, Harry decided.

…

* * *

Meanwhile, Snape was heading back to his quarters with a small scowl. He knew Slytherin had put up a good game, but still…Losing to Hufflepuff was a sore spot. And to make things worse…

"Severus!"

He sneered and pondered if he could pretend temporary deafness.

"Severus? If you could wait-"

No, he could _not_ wait. He slowed down anyway, scowling more. Lupin caught up with him.

"Slytherin played well today," Lupin started. Snape gave him a disdainful look and Lupin flushed. "I mean it. Even though you lost."

"What do you want, Lupin?" Snape asked in an irritated voice. He quickened his pace, but the dratted werewolf kept up easily.

"To talk."

"More than you are talking now? I may not have the patience for that, Lupin."

Instead of looking intimidated or even embarrassed at that like he had hoped, Lupin snorted. "Come now, Severus, it's not like you have any classes today."

"Which does not mean I am free to loiter around to have a chat! Unlike _some_ , I do pride myself on being a _responsible_ teacher."

Lupin's step faltered, and his face went white. Snape felt an immense satisfaction spread through him when the werewolf obviously understood the barb. Lupin's own fault and nobody else's. Snape did his part and brewed the Wolfsbane potion for the werewolf, and the blasted fool almost killed students after forgetting to take it on the night of the full moon.

"I know I messed up, Snape, you don't need to remind me of it." Lupin's voice was very low.

"'Messed up' is a kind description, Lupin. You nearly killed Potter and his friends as well as me!"

Lupin cringed. Snape got at least ten strides of silence before the inane chatter started again.

"I will never forget. _Never_. I put Harry in danger, and it was all my fault. I will _not_ forget." Snape sneered at Lupin's vehement tone.

"Duly noted. Now, for the last time, what do you want?"

To Snape's annoyance, Lupin stopped and cast a privacy bubble around them. "I need to talk to you about Sirius."

Snape would have reared like an enraged snake and swept away if it hadn't been for Lupin's next words.

"It concerns Harry as well."

He contemptuously inclined his head, indicating the werewolf should continue. Lupin complied.

"Sirius is Harry's family…his remaining family at least. In my opinion, at least, they could do a great deal of good to each other. Severus, all I ask of you is, if there ever comes a time when Sirius could be proved innocent, would you be willing to help?"

Snape blanked his face and gritted his teeth. "So," he glared heavily, "once again you are in need of _my help_. What a pity I am _not_ inclined to help." As if. How _dare_ they ask for _more_ when he gave and gave and kept giving!

Lupin looked crestfallen. "Severus…"

"I have already helped, Lupin. Don't you dare ask for more!"

"I am not asking for myself! Or for Sirius, for that matter…I'm asking for Harry."

Snape's hands clenched into fists. _Of all the nerve…_

"If anything, that made me even more unwilling to help," he sneered. "Why should I do anything for that brat? The last time I _helped_ , he _disarmed me_ , and nearly got me killed or fatally wounded!"

"He had his reasons, Severus! And _I'm_ the one who almost got you killed!"

"Not much of a difference there then! His _father_ would have been proud of him!" Snape's hateful glower twisted his face. "Don't come _sniveling_ to me for help- you won't get it!"

He swept away, breaking through the privacy bubble and not looking back. He radiated anger from every pore, and the look on his face would have been enough to daunt even Albus himself.

Students scattered from his path like marbles, the buzzing Quidditch atmosphere instantly dispelling into fright at the sight of his face and gait. Slytherins quailed when he passed, no doubt concluding that his bad mood was due to the loss of victory in the Quidditch pitch.

If only.

He marched on ahead, intending to lock himself up in his quarters and never look at that damn werewolf again…when he spotted a head of raven hair near the grand staircase. Outlet.

" _Potter!_ "

His growl made students jerk away, and those passing near Potter staggered away, leaving the frozen boy in the clear. He strode up to the brat, and noted with satisfaction the alarmed expression which flitted over Potter's face.

"Detention!"

Potter's jaw dropped. "For walking in the corridor?!"

"For talking back to a teacher, you disrespectful twit!" He glared at the Gryffindor who was glaring back. "My office at eight this evening!"

"But _why_?" The boy cried indignantly, making Snape feel pleased for a moment.

"Why?" he purred, leaning close to the brat and relishing the flinch. "For insolence, disobedience, unprovoked attack towards a person of authority, and for being such a blight on my life!" He made sure nobody had heard his last words, sneered at Potter again, and strode away, his robes billowing out behind him.

Vengeance was sweet.

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* * *

 _ **Oooh la la! And Snape strikes again! So, a quick note before you leave (hopefully after hitting the review button)...**_

 _ **I do not condone bullying. Bullies are awful, and have no excuse to do what they do (apart from a few very rare cases). I believe that bullies are made, not born, and blame doesn't lie just with the bully, but those who make them, and then look away as well. I have not been bullied in my lifetime, so I won't pretend to know how the bullied innocents feel. But I would like to say, that in my opinion, asking for help isn't a sign of weakness. Standing up to your bully takes a great deal of courage. But that doesn't make those who can't do that cowards. No way. I salute those who are brave enough to stop acts of bullying when they see it. Because some of us may be more fortunate than others, and some of us might be different to the rest, but we CAN coexist. I mean, why not? Take a look around, help those who need it. And remember that there are people who look happy, but suffer underneath.**_

 _ **I hope I haven't offended anyone with this note/rant. I am only one person on this planet, but I do want to be of some help to others.**_

 _ **Thanks. :)**_


	35. Chapter 35 - Past and Present Sufferings

_**Hello dear readers! Sooo...before anyone starts casting Unforgivables at me, I should tell you how sorry I am for not updating for some time. Truth is, I got some pretty bad news, and I've been having some very small issues due to that bombshell, and on top of everything, the stress built a writer's block that I haven't quite broken through...**_

 _ **I have no intention of abandoning DtB, don't worry. I guess updates will be less frequent, at least until I can get things sorted out at my end. Sorry in advance. But what I'm dealing with is pretty important to me, I really hope you understand.**_

 _ **That said, I have to thank all of you for sticking with me so far, for following, favorite-ing, reviewing, and even simply reading. It makes me really happy to see a new review, even if it is a few words. Thank you for taking the time to comment. I appreciate it.**_

 _ **I have been wondering though, if some of you find the story boring... It will get better, I promise. There's so much to build up before jumping into the exciting bits. I mean, it's actually hard to write Voldemort who's Tom, and Tom who's Voldemort, because in my head, there's a distinct difference between the two. I know you must be wanting to read more Tomarry interaction, but there's a lot - and I mean a LOT - of history for them to get through. Harry isn't going to become besties with his parents' murderer, whether he forgave him or not. And Tom isn't going to shed his Dark Lord persona without VERY GOOD reason. Plus, there are all the other characters to deal with... *shudders* I have to keep them on track with Tom and Harry too, so bear with me...and Snape and Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore and Sirius and Remus and the rest. I'm sorry if you're bored, but, um, darkest hour before dawn? *laughs hysterically***_

 _ **If it makes you feel better - although I'm not completely sure what you guys will think - in the next couple of chapters, a new character will be brought in. Well, they're not new, exactly, but they haven't been portrayed much in this story so far. Anyone want to guess who?**_

 _ **Wow, long note, sorry again, but I hope you're a little less confused now. If anyone has questions they're welcome to PM me, of course, or just leave a review.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **.**_

* * *

Harry scowled as he left the Great Hall after dinner. He was tired after the excitement of the match, and the recurring nightmares which kept him up at night. And now he had detention with Snape! Honestly, as if deducting fifty points wasn't enough, the man had to make him chop flobberworms or scrub cauldrons or something equally worse. He doubted Snape would ever forgive him for disarming him in the Shrieking Shack.

He felt empty, but he hadn't had much of an appetite, what with flashbacks of his nightly terrors killing his appreciation for the food in Hogwarts. To add to his depression, Ron and Hermione still weren't talking to him, and Tom had once again vanished from school since a few days back, probably to deal with his Dark Lord business.

He should probably write to Sirius again soon, but having to be careful with everything he did was beginning to drive Harry crazy. He had to write like he usually would without letting Sirius discover he was rereading every line to make sure nothing incriminating had slipped out. He had to act normal in DADA to avoid Remus finding out he wasn't talking to his friends these days. He had to be careful to stay out of Ron's and Hermione's way, especially when he was with Tom. He had to hide the truth about his life with the Dursleys from everyone.

He was so sick and tired of having to hide so many things from so many people.

He trudged down to Snape's office, and sighed loudly before knocking on the door.

It swung open after a few seconds, and Snape looked down his large nose at Harry. "I'm here for my detention. Sir." Harry informed him when the man didn't move away from the doorway.

Snape stared at him impassively. Harry noted with some relief that his temper seemed to have cooled down. Well, at least as much as Snape was able to cool down.

"It seems to have escaped your notice, Potter, that you have arrived at the wrong time." Snape's dark eyes bored into him. "I told you to be here at eight, not ten minutes before."

Harry nearly rolled his eyes. Just ten minutes early, for Merlin's sake! "Would you like me to come back ten minutes later?" He successfully made his voice out to be sarcasm-free.

"And have you disturb me a second time? I hardly think so." Snape swept back inside, leaving Harry to follow and shut the door behind him. He wondered what unpleasant task the Potions Master would make him do.

Merlin, he was so tired.

There was a row of dirty cauldrons in a corner of the office, and Harry stared at them in dismay. They were…disgusting was a too tame word for them. Even as he watched, slimy yellow foam formed on the rim of one cauldron. _Eurgh!_

He hastily turned away from the sight, and was met with Snape's malicious face. His resolve to be polite to the professor faltered when he glimpsed a small smirk at the edge of the dour Slytherin's lips.

"Since you have earned yourself a detention, Mr. Potter," Snape began with no small amount of glee, "I've decided to kill two birds with one stone. Those cauldrons," he jerked his head towards the filthy cauldrons, "need to be cleaned before tomorrow, and since you are here, you can get started." A sadistic smirk crossed his face slowly. " _Without_ magic."

Harry couldn't stop himself from letting out a groan.

Secret protector or not, Snape was still a prat.

He rolled up his sleeves, and tried not to scowl. Thank Merlin, he'd had the foresight to change into an old shirt before he went down to dinner. He examined the cauldrons with barely concealed disgust. There were six in total, all in various conditions. He picked up the brush lying near them, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Right, down to work.

He chanced a glance toward the desk, where Snape had resumed his seat and started grading papers. Then he looked back at the cauldrons. And back at Snape.

Taking a deep breath and nearly gagging at the smell emitting from the dirty cauldrons, he put down the brush and took a few steps towards Snape.

"Professor."

Snape didn't pause in his work. "Were my instructions not clear enough, Potter?"

"I – they were clear…I just want to know why you issued me detention."

Now Snape stopped writing. He raised his head, and his obsidian eyes bored into the Gryffindor. "I already provided you with the answer to that. Or are you suffering from deafness as well as incurable idiocy?"

"I know what you said!" Harry snapped. "But why so suddenly? I mean, you just swooped down on me out of nowhere when I was minding my own business!"

"Then I would advise you continue to mind your own business, Potter!"

"My detention _is_ my business, Professor! I have a right to know why I'm being punished." Harry retorted.

Snape rose from his seat, looking more bat-like than ever. His eyes gleamed. "Just like your insufferable father. He too could never learn to keep his mouth shut." Moving around the desk, Snape stood facing Harry. "You are being _punished_ , Potter-" 

_"_ _You are being_ punished _, freak, for polluting our normal home with your freakishness!" Whack! "I have had enough of your insolence, boy!" Whack! "You dare show your abnormalities in front of us!" Whack! Whack!_

 _"_ _P- please…I-" Whack! "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon! I didn't-" Whack! "-mean to do it!"_

 _"_ _Hold your tongue, you freaky little urchin!" Whack!_

 _Tears streamed down six-year-old Harry's face as his raging whale of an uncle brought down the belt over his back, again and again. The wine glass that Dudley had dropped and shattered now lay whole and fixed by Harry's magic, while Harry bore the punishment for fixing it instinctively in front of his aunt and uncle._

 _"_ _Freak!" Whack! "I'll show you-"_

"Potter? Potter!"

Harry jerked out the flashback and automatically took a couple of steps back. His fingers curled around the wand in his pocket, while he tried to calm himself and hide his rather ragged breathing. He was still in Snape's office, and Snape was standing closer to him than before, looking intently at him and frowning. Harry swallowed, feeling wrong-footed and exposed somehow. To remember something like that, in front of Snape, no less…he hated the sudden vulnerability.

Snape opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, still looking at him in that odd way. Harry clenched his hands into fists and spun around to go back to his work. Snape didn't know. Nobody knew. It was still his best kept secret.

Two hours had passed, but Harry had hardly felt them go by. Two of the six cauldrons were perfectly cleaned – thanks to Aunt Petunia's obsessive need to keep her house clean, Harry was more than capable of cleaning, no matter what the stains were -, and Harry tiredly finished up the third one. His arms ached, and his back and shoulders were killing him. The only silver lining he could see was the possibility of falling into a deep sleep as soon as he fell into bed that night. Being this tired, he was certain he wouldn't be plagued by any dreams that night.

He pushed away the clean cauldron and pulled the next one over to him, taking a quick minute to stretch his arms and work the cramps out of his fingers. He took a cautious sniff. "Ugh!" He coughed in disgust. The cauldron _stank_ of rotten fruit.

"Quiet." Snape intoned monotonously, but the twitch of his lips was unmistakably a satisfied smirk. Fortunately Harry was still recovering from the smell to fly off the handle again.

"That's appalling! What _is_ it?"

"That, Potter, is the remains of a failed attempt by a pathetic first year to make a Herbicide potion." Snape informed him. "Better not swallow any of that by mistake, or you will be spending the rest of the term in the hospital."

Harry leaned away from the offending cauldron. He knew Snape could have probably cleaned it out with a quick and easy scourgify, but no, he had to make _Harry_ clean it _without_ magic. Infuriating. Gritting his teeth, he raised his brush to get rid of the coagulated mess on the surface, but Snape's voice stopped him.

"You can leave now, Potter."

Relief was quickly followed by confusion. Harry glanced at the three unfinished cauldrons even as he gladly put the brush down. "What about…" Harry started hesitantly, gesturing to the still-mucky cauldrons.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome to stay and finish them if you don't mind being out after curfew. I'm sure I can find something for you to do during the detention you will without doubt receive from Mr. Filch."

"On no, that's fine," Harry quickly said. "I'll leave at once." He rolled down his sleeves and crossed the room to the door. "'Night, professor."

Harry closed the door before Snape took any more points off Gryffindor. In the corridor outside, exhaustion hit him full force, and he sighed, casting a scourgify on his hands and shirt. He took a moment to rest, leaning against the wall outside the office.

 _Well, that's definitely a vial of Sleeping Drought saved_ , he thought humorlessly. _Thanks to Snape and his sodding detention_.

Harry slowly slid down the wall, wincing when his bottom hit the cold stone floor. The long walk up to Gryffindor tower suddenly seemed impossible. His scar throbbed, and he absentmindedly rubbed it, not thinking twice about what it might mean.

He jerked when Snape's office door unexpectedly swung open, and Snape himself came striding out clad in a pitch black cloak. Snape came to an abrupt stop when he caught sight of Harry sitting on the floor outside his rooms. An incredulous eyebrow rose.

"What in the name of Salazar do you think you're doing, Potter?"

Strangely, Harry's tiredness warred and overcame any apprehension he may have had, and he shrugged wearily. "Sitting. Sir." He curiously eyed the cloak wrapped around the professor. "Are you going somewhere?"

"What makes you think you are entitled to know that? Get out of my sight before I throw you in detention for the rest of the week!"

"Can't move." Harry blinked innocently up at the scowling man. Merlin, was he giving Snape cheek? He must be more tired than he'd thought. His scar gave another mighty throb, and he presses his knuckles against it, valiantly trying to relieve the pain.

"Potter…" Snape said warningly. "I don't have time for your ridiculousness. Return to your common room this instant."

Harry sighed loudly, and heaved himself up off the floor. "Yes sir. On it." He took a step, and decided to start the trek back to Gryffindor tower when he didn't crumple to the floor. He thought too soon. Sharp pain shot through the scar on his forehead. His vision went blurry, and he teetered forward. A hand caught his shoulder and forced him to lean against the wall. _Ah_ , the nice, cool, unmoving wall. Harry pressed his cheek against it, screwed his eyes shut and held his breath. Black dots danced in his vision in tandem with the twinges from his scar. If it weren't for the hand holding him up, he would have collapsed in an ungainly heap.

Scar. Killing curse. Voldemort. Tom. Oh yes, Tom. Harry scowled. Why did Tom have to be so angry all the time? He needed anger management. Oh yes. Harry was going to get some leaflets from St. Mungo's delivered to the Dark Lord as soon as he could.

"Potter, can you hear me?"

Harry immediately recognized Snape's smooth low voice, and blinked away the last of the dizziness. The spike in Tom's temper faded, and the pain of Harry's scar ebbed away. When he fully came to himself, he took in his surroundings with growing awareness. He was still in the dungeons. Snape was still gripping his shoulder…and watching him with consternation.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes for a second.

The hand on his shoulder tightened a fraction, and Harry became fully aware of it. He wrenched himself away violently and crashed into the wall. Uncle Vernon always gripped him by a shoulder whenever he thought Harry needed some…reprimand.

"Potter, it's me!" Snape growled.

Harry shook his head, breathing hard. _Calm down, this is Hogwarts. Safe safe Hogwarts_. He exhaled slowly, gathered himself, and stood straight.

"I'll get out of your sight now, professor." His shoulders ached.

"What just happened, Potter?" Snape asked, eying him with an unreadable expression. Harry was sure the man knew what happened- he probably just wanted to hear Harry confess his weaknesses. He shook his head again.

"Just tired," he said, looking at a spot behind Snape. That night in the hospital after the Quidditch match had been bad enough. He didn't want to appear any more pitiful in front of Snape.

Snape gave him a surprising disappointed look, barked out, "Wait here", and swept back into his office. Harry slumped against the wall, wondering why Tom had gotten so angry earlier, and also where exactly Snape was going this late at night.

Speaking of, the Potions master returned and thrust a roll of parchment at Harry. "It is curfew now, Potter."

Harry blinked bemusedly at the rolled up note before he realized what it was – a pass to get him back to Gryffindor tower without earning any more detentions. "Oh. Er, thanks," he said awkwardly. How did one thank their previously most hated teacher when said teacher did something helpful? He suddenly remembered how he had applied bruise salve on Snape's shoulder that day in the hospital, and flushed.

Thankfully Snape was walking away now. Harry watched him reach the corner, pause and turn back to address the Gryffindor.

"And Potter, detention tomorrow evening, the Potions classroom."

Harry gaped. " _Again?_ "

"You are, technically, out of bed during curfew." Snape gave a truly smug sneer – was that a glint of amusement in his dark eyes? "Goodnight, Potter."

Harry let out a heartfelt groan.

Little did they know the unpleasant shocks the both of them were about to receive that night.

* * *

 _ **REVIEWS!**_

 _ ***settles in a beanbag waiting with bated breath***_

 _ **Hope you were entertained by Snape & Harry.**_

 _ **See you!**_


	36. Chapter 36 - I Spy With His Eyes

_**Wow! Hi guys, it's me... haha, after almost 7 months or so. I'm so sorry I didn't update for so long or even leave you guys a message - I know, I'm a prat. Like I told you guys in my last chapter, I had exams and I was way over my head in revision... Still I never gave up on Tom and Harry... lol!**_

 _ **What simply amazed me was what even though I had disappeared for months, you wonderful readers out there kept following - I was so surprised and SO HAPPY to see all the notifications in my inbox. Shout out to the awesome OperaEagle IcelynLacelett whose beautiful and encouraging review made me finally set aside my books and try to get back on track with Destiny: The Beginning.**_

 _ **Not as easy as i first thought it was, getting back into writing the fic. But I kept trying, and I will keep trying somehow. BUT I can't promise regular updates 'cause my finals are coming up and I've got to somehow eat, drink, breath and dream my revision. I really don't want to give up on this fic, not when even you fantastic people have stuck with me for...what three years? Two and a half? I don't even know!**_

 _ **Anyway, here's a chapter to (hopefully) make you happy... a massive THANK YOU to everyone who read the story and followed and left reviews and favorited. All of the support really helped me and will keep helping.**_

 _ **Hoping to have the next chapter up soon...!**_

 _ **...**_

* * *

Harry quickly made his way up to Gryffindor tower after he was sure Snape had left. Despite the pass he clutched in a slightly sweaty palm warding off a smarmy Filch, his heart was still beating rapidly.

Something wasn't right.

He didn't know what, but there was a nagging at the back of his head, one that had begun even before he had realized it was there. It had something to do with Tom, he was certain. Was Tom in danger? Or…was someone in danger from Tom?

He had no idea what to do. On the other hand, Snape was now at the top of his list of priorities. He forced his tired body to keep moving, past staring portraits, up the staircases, past a grey and black striped cat-

Wait. What?

He jerked to a stop. The cat watched him unblinkingly. He helplessly held up the parchment in his hand. "I've got a pass from Professor Snape," he blurted out. The cat swished its tail. Harry took it to mean 'Proceed', and picked up his pace. He had to get to Gryffindor tower as soon as he could, regardless of how much he wanted to keel over and sleep till next week.

Behind him, the silent cat changed back into McGonagall. "Potter," she called. "Straight to your dormitory, understood? No detours!"

Harry called back a weak "Yes ma'am!" to appease her. He had a feeling he might not obey her orders. Putting the adrenaline in his body to good use, he broke into a sprint, keeping his footsteps as quiet as he could. He paused at the bottom of the last staircase to catch his breath. Cleaning cauldrons had taken most of his energy, and Tom's little mental gift had sapped the rest. Brilliant.

He climbed the stairs, wheezed out the password to an abruptly awakened Fat Lady and stumbled into the common room.

Seamus and Dean sprang up from their seats in front of the fire in surprise. A glossy magazine cover reflected the flames at their feet.

"Ha-Harry! What are-"

Harry kept moving, towards his dormitory, his bed, his trunk. _It might already be too late_ …

"Harry?" Dean's voice held curiosity and concern, but Harry didn't have time. Until he sagged at the bottom step to the boys' dormitory. White hot pain from his scar overpowered him and brought him to his knees. He was almost there…He couldn't even summon what he wanted, his trunk was firmly shut. Harry wished he could somehow bounce the pain from his scar through the link to the bastard's own head so he could get a taste of his own medicine. Which would be a good idea, best followed when he was able to spell his own name.

"'M fine…" he muttered curtly to the two Gryffindor boys staring at him. He lurched into his dormitory, and went to his bed. Oh, Tom was angry tonight, so very angry. And if Harry was right about the very faint suspicions that had formed about Severus Snape at the back of his head, then he didn't envy his teacher tonight. At all. Flipping open his trunk lid, he pulled out the map. Unfortunately, Seamus and Dean had followed him into the room, and were staring at him with open curiosity.

Seamus spoke. "What's going on? What's that parchment?"

Sighing harshly in frustration, Harry cast a gaze around the room. How could he open the map in plain sight of the others? Damn, he was wasting time!

On a sudden stroke of inspiration, he headed for the bathroom. "Seamus and Dean, there's nothing going on. Really. I just – uh – have a…" he trailed off, brain working frantically. "A stomachache."

The two exchanged glances, clearly disbelieving, but Harry couldn't spend any more time on them. He strode into the empty bathroom and shut the door behind him.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Ink bloomed on the parchment, forming the infamous Marauders' Map. Harry feverishly scanned every inch for the name Severus Snape, but he was unsuccessful. At least fifteen minutes of a soundless mantra on his lips later, Harry accepted defeat. Snape had well and truly vanished off the map.

Now, where was it that he went?

Of course, Harry knew he could have been mistaken or reading too much into this, but… The nagging at the back of his mind just wouldn't leave him alone. The little coincidences were adding up too well.

Harry's initial suspicions concerning the attitude of his Potions professor towards Tom. And today, Snape cutting the detention short. Sure, it had only been a matter of five minutes or so, but Snape would never release a student from detention for any reason. Snape's abrupt departure at the same time as the burst of pain from his scar. No…something was up.

But was Snape really a follower of Lord Voldemort? Harry tapped his wand against his thigh indecisively. Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, a secret _Death Eater_? He scoffed. Ludicrous.

 _No, it's really possible… Who knows anything at all about Snape? We did suspect Snape of working for Voldemort back in first year, didn't we? And what was that Quirell told me?_ 'Snape does seem the type, doesn't he? _' Wow, this is just getting weirder by the minute._

Harry slid down the wall and contemplated this. A sudden thought stopped him short. Was Dumbledore aware of this? Did he know Snape was leaving the castle so late night? Either way, there was nothing anyone could do about it now. Snape would probably be back the next day before anybody noticed his absence.

"Mischief Managed." He could keep an eye out for Snape to get back, but now that his adrenaline was ebbing away, the idea didn't much appeal to him. He folded up the map and stood. What he _could_ do was see if Snape was acting strangely the next day. He had no concrete evidence to go to Dumbledore, and questioning Tom was, well, out of the question.

It was only as he was opening the door that he remembered he had scored yet another detention with Snape.

 _Maybe he really is a Death Eater, and he's trying to kill me with detention_ , he thought scowling and changing into his pyjamas. There was no sign of Seamus and Dean, thank Merlin. He wasn't sure he could have stopped himself from snapping at them.

Casting a surreptitious glance towards the drawer where he hid his sleeping droughts, he flopped into bed. He had no need of potions today. His eyes were closing right away.

...

* * *

A fire flickered low in a corner of the chamber. Oppressive darkness and a stifling silence hung over the room. About ten figures stood at one end of the room, swathed in black robes and hoods. From where he was sitting, if he looked hard enough, he could make out drops of sweat on an upper lip.

Fool.

One of the logs in the fire made a cracking sound, and one of the figures dropped his wand. It rolled away and came to a stop in the middle of the cavernous room.

Nobody moved.

He debated on summoning the spindly wand and snapping it. Then maybe he could snap the owner's neck in a similar fashion.

He tilted his head, and watched the panicked idiot cast a terrified gaze towards him. When his eyes remained fixed on him, the man threw a frightened glance at those around him. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

Perhaps he would cast the Cruciatus on the bumbling fool. To pass the time.

He looked down at his hands. His bony paper white hands with their discolored nails. His beloved wand. His magnificent yew wand.

When he looked up, the man who had dropped his wand was scuttling back to his place among the others, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. Apparently he had grown a backbone and moved forward to pick it up, or he had grown a brain and summoned it.

He didn't care, either way. Both would be a vast improvement.

He allowed his gaze to flit over the rest of the men assembled. They all cowered, under the weight of his gaze. He didn't mind. He liked it. They were worthless. All of them. Lacking the right to look into his eyes. Lacking the courage.

 _Killing curse green eyes glared into his own, filled with defiance and showing not even the slightest hint of fear–_

He stilled as the door squeaked open. Or maybe the sound was from that pathetic excuse for a human, Wormtail.

He straightened. His wand slid into the loose grip he favored. The newcomer bowed low from the doorway.

His practically nonexistent lips stretched into a cruel grin.

"Ah, Severus– "

…

* * *

 _"–_ _how good of you to join us!" He rose from his ornate seat. "I was beginning to worry you had lost your way." As he slowly descended a couple of steps, the tall man knelt, his dark hair shielding his face._

 _"_ _My Lord, I beg your forgiveness…I was held up at the castle."_

 _Harry walked a semi-circle around the man, trailing the bone-white wand lightly over the back his neck. It was delightful how his shoulders tensed._

 _"_ _Held up, were you?" he repeated, slowing to a halt. "Explain, Severus."_

 _The other man raised his head gradually. "I was supervising a detention when I received your summons, my Lord, as such, I was unable to take my leave immediately." He bowed from where he knelt, and Harry reveled in the obvious fearful deference. "I shall strive to ensure this error is never repeated, my Lord."_

 _"_ _Crucio."_

 _He uttered the word so softly, almost a whisper, that the curse may almost have been a nonverbal one. The man still kneeling before him betrayed his anxiety with a tiny flinch, but his fear was unfounded._

 _The Death Eater who had earlier dropped his wand now dropped to the floor himself, writhing and screaming in agony. Harry looked on dispassionately. The individuals around the bawling man carefully inched away, trying to keep their faces expressionless, most likely fearing to find themselves the next victim of his displeasure. Even the man who had expected the curse as his punishment remained frozen in his position._

 _He held the curse for a few minutes more, uncaring that the man under his wand had fat tears leaking from the corners of his mask. When he finally did lift the curse, the screams died down to pathetic sobs. The rest of the Death Eaters shifted, each and every one keeping their eyes averted._

 _"_ _Rise." This was aimed at the kneeling person in front of him. Harry walked back to his seat. "Lord Voldemort does not forgive mistakes. You would do well to remember that. Every one of you." He reclaimed his seat with a swish of his pitch black robes._

 _The kneeling figure slowly rose, bowed shortly again and melted into the crowd, carefully sidestepping the man shuddering on the floor as he did so. Harry silently let his gaze wander over the assembled before he spoke again._

 _"_ _Now, Macnair…" The man addressed jerked upright. "Tell me, what of the task I set you some time ago? Have you succeeded?"_

 _"_ _My –my Lord…I –I searched, b –but I could not f –find them…"_

 _Harry tilted his head, feeling satisfaction grow inside him when the bumbling idiot trailed off at the minute action._

 _"_ _So you have failed me."_

 _"_ _M –my Lord I beg your forgiveness! They have not been seen in s –some time…I…tracking them – my Lord –"_

 _"_ _When I entrusted this errand to you, Macnair, I recall quite clearly how you swore not to return without those I ordered you to track down, yet here you stand, empty-handed, with nothing to show for your effort…and I wonder…I wonder if you truly put in any effort into it after all…perhaps you have disobeyed me and not searched for them at all…"_

 _Macnair slid to his knees in despair, trembling. "Please my Lord, I tried, I tried! I would never disobey you, master, I live to serve!" His voice grew with his fear. "It is as if they've vanished!"_

 _Harry scoffed, shooting up from his seat in one fluid move, startling everybody. "Vanished! You dare to stand in front of Lord Voldemort and spout excuses for your shortcomings!" He raised his wand menacingly. "You, who have served me for some time now…you claim they bested you?"_

 _The Death Eater shook like an aspen leaf. "I will find them, my Lord! Please, my merciful Lord, I beg you to give me a few days more – I will not disappoint you, I will drag them back from whatever hole they have crawled into, I will lay them at your feet, my Lord, I will-"_

 _The hiss which escaped Harry's lips frightened him into silence. "Empty words!" he hissed venomously. "I have yet to see you – any of you – carry out my wishes to my satisfaction! Worthless…"_

 _"_ _My L –lord, p –please f –forgive us–l"_

 _The Death Eater who had stuttered out this plea went down in a tangle of flailing limbs when Harry turned and hit him with a red beam and a snarl of "Crucio!" Harry let the Death Eater thrash about in unbearable pain, while he took a moment to stabilize himself. Then–_

 _"_ _Why is it that you all continue to disappoint me so? Have I not been clear in my instructions?"_

 _Hurried nods of heads, a brave few murmuring 'Yes, my Lord'._

 _He had gradually moved forward as he spoke. His form, already difficult to discern from the shadows, blurred even more as the flames in the single fireplace leapt higher, creating taller shadows which blended into his outline. "I will not tolerate any more failures." His robes swirled behind him forebodingly. "I will make an example of any who dare to show themselves to me to bring me displeasure…I will not be lenient with those who earn my ire…" He glided around the masked wizards, his ears picking up the harsh exhales and the stifled whimpers and the hitched breaths. His nostrils flared, breathing in the pungent scent of their terror._

 _"_ _Am I to assume that the rest of you have failed as well?" he questioned in his high whispery voice. The Death Eaters all flinched. He watched as all of them shook their heads fervently, barring Macnair…and one other cowering man in the corner. He swooped down on the unfortunate coward at once, feeling a faint sense of vindictive amusement when his converged followers scattered in frenzy away from him._

 _Quick as a serpent, he whipped off the mask, leaving the square face exposed. Fearful eyes dropped to the floor in deference, while his forehead was damp with cold sweat. Blonde hair stuck to the back of his neck with the drops of perspiration._

 _"_ _Thorfinn Rowle!" He hissed out the name, and the man immediately dropped to his knees, curling his spine into a low bow._

 _"_ _My Lord–" The honorific was spoken in a hoarse whisper. Harry's eyes glittered with sadistic amusement – clearly the Death Eater had been stewing in fear for a while._

 _He studied Rowle for a minute._

 _"_ _Well?" Harry said at length. He kept his voice relatively calm, in contrast to the angered tones he knew his followers had expected. "What about you, Thorfinn?"_

 _The man took a shuddering breath. "I beg mercy, my Lord. I…I failed in my task. I have failed you." He bowed so low that his forehead touched the hem of Harry's robes. "Forgive me, my Lord…" He swallowed audibly._

 _Harry remained silent for some time, and eventually the surrounding Death Eaters began to shift in consternation. Finally he turned and agonizingly slowly made his way to his seat. Not looking at anyone, he instead stood watching the fire. But he was very aware of every single person in the room._

 _Another oppressive silence fell. Rowle remained in his subservient position. Nobody moved if they could help it._

 _Out of the blue, Harry spun, rage coursing through him, his pale wand raised and aimed at Rowle._

 _"_ Crucio! _"_

* * *

.

Behind red drapes, in a bed in the Gryffindor dormitory in Hogwarts castle, jolting awake with green eyes wide open, Harry _screamed_.

.

* * *

 ** _Um. Yeah... How was it?_**


End file.
